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
boy
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
gone
i held your body
i held it
tight
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.