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Her - Isabella Moya

Maybe her long blonde hair will cascade

Down her shoulders, reaching her back.

Maybe the sodalite that’s engraved

Into her eye sockets will start to crack.

Maybe that long blonde hair will catch fire

And the flames will reach the roots.

I would only be a liar,

If I said I don’t imagine the smoke

That would fill the room.

Maybe she’ll smile and the pearls.

That line her gums will plop,

One by one, down a steep drain.

Maybe the confidence that oozes

Out of her pores

Will leave and never return.

Maybe her long legs that hold her up

Will crumble beneath her.

Maybe when she tries to gather the pieces

They’ll disintegrate between her fingers.

But that will never happen.

She will flip her locks of marigold

And stare into my dark eyes.

Never realizing the fate

I created in my mind.

The fate that was made especially for her.


Isabella Moya is from Santa Fe, New Mexico and is currently attending New Mexico Military Institute. She works with creative non-fiction poetry and wants to further her experience with writing. She is Latinx and comes from a Spanish speaking community and family.

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