Jodi A. Corbett
When I see a child in a casket,
the static falls away.
I was scared of failing, she wrote.
When I see her hands crossed,
purple nails propped
(Ten fingers, ten toes)
on the pink-enameled
and glittered cell phone—
I wanna become a teacher, she texted,
bc I have a lot to offer children.
I wonder--is my text still there?
Hi, Julia. Are you taking summer classes? I texted,
(in the bored already awake morning of waiting for replies.)
Might our words return, Astraea?
I need an answer.