loose sweet little boy

         the scissors paved your

head like a damn—

         missile and you said

you wished your hair

         to have straight ends

you wished (you)r good ends

         you (wished)


Chicago       is     famous        because

         of         its    buildings     yet

                      our home didn’t do

and it came flying—

a demon lurking from the cold anger of

         a      stained         steel         prison


it snapped


through the window our

         paper window         that couldn’t

protect         my   sweet           little




from            the mortiferous

loose b u l l e t      that took


         his   life   away    i

held your body tight


you were only four


you were crying

i was crying—blood on you

         hot with life i

cold—dead kissed you


you tasted



i held your body

i held it




Biographical Note: Dianna Vega is a senior student at the University of Central Florida majoring in English, Creative Writing, and working towards the completion of a Publishing & Editing certificate. She’s an avid consumer of stories—in any format—and aspires to become a professional fiction writer and poet one day.