Gather all your tears up and place them on your fridge with a magnet.
Humanness is captured in shrines

As too the lines
Near my eyes or my belly.

I become urns
And scorn the libraries burnt

By the chrysanthemums outside
That grow up their sides.

Icarus flowers whose design’s
Are too mouthy and unknown to

Ever be worth it.
The mirror lacks flowers, just lines dismissed,

Or perhaps kissed!
Or perhaps the mirror is ocean; sky.

Leif Wood is a sophomore at Columbia College studying English and Philosophy. He is a big fan of words and trees.