By Isabella Montes
Manders splayed his hands into clay
breathing life into the unnamed.
A perfect creation, one with no mind.
It’s back is a river of fingerprints, full of trenches,
swallowing an identity it would never possess.
Segal depicted exhaustion in white plaster
Their loneliness etched into their blank
stares ahead to an infinity we cannot see.
The mundane a harsh reality.
Kiefer is an alchemist with the tools
of a translator. He stole breaths that transcends language
suspended an eternity in the width of their wings.
A magic he knows every word for yet
Crafts in iron and steel.
They told me gods take the offerings
we place at their temples. I can only
provide my words that lack the vitality
to create life.
The beginning thoughts to an understanding.
Isabella Montes is a sophomore honors student majoring in English with a minor in History. She enjoys fantasy fiction, tres leches, and is in the early stages of writing a children’s book.