My Companion 

I fold and shove the tag back into my sweater
Press it flat against the seam
It still scratches
rough against the back of my neck

I shift my shoulders
Pull at the collars
Try to ignore 
forget that it’s there

I laugh with her
Sit together for all meals
Feel a twist within me
An uncertainty I cannot name
But she remains my companion 
And there is nothing to be done

The air is too cold 
To take off my sweater
So the itch stays, rubbing deeper 
into the hours.

The Cathedral Tapestry

The cathedral tapestry in the twilight labyrinth
Breathes dust when I brush my hand against the wall
A lanternfly vessel on driftwood at the tide
Drums its wings like thin paper, struggling not to drown
The compass is a mosaic
  of the prism and the aurora
It’s needle trembling, pointing toward a colder wind
Mercury eclipse and sapphire mirage veil the citadel
Its windows are flashing on and off
The orchard blossom is a fossil of velvet and rust
I feel its pulse within me
As if something hidden, waiting to open from the inside.

Keys of Black and White

Walking with the crowd,
between hurried strangers
Keys of black and white,
a large piano for the crowd

Gum fossils and oil stains listening below
A stitch work sewn from street to street

“I wear thin under the shuffle
of those who never look down,”
      it says
In memory, leaping from stripe to stripe,
through a big playground

Irene Kim is a high school student who loves visual art and writing. Her work has been recognized in local exhibitions and school publications. When she’s not drawing or writing, she enjoys reading poetry, walking in the rain, and experimenting with collage. Irene hopes to continue creating work that captures both the quiet and the extraordinary.