2015-2016, Poem


Featured in the 2016 Spring Issue of Rambunctious

Celia Reistrom, '18

Paper skin falls apart in layers,
like brittle leaves being pushed off a tree until the tree is bare
And that's why when the knife digs in
Scarlet droplets condense into red ribbons
and they spill like milk off the edge of a counter, piling on the floor, staining the tile red
Paper skin, like a paper girl
Ignites with a single flame, and trying to make two burning candles blaze in sync is the same as water 
trying to dance with fire
She is paper, she is carried along in the wind
Lifted gently off the top of her feet, but
Hits the ground so easily
But paper skin, like a paper girl
Becomes scattered ghosts when they're paper thin
And paper skin, like a paper girl
Rips to shreds so easily