I remember when we lived in a house back on Suzanne Way
and we had a gigantic trampoline in our backyard
Sometimes we would see squirrels and rabbits and mockingbirds
building their own little space to protect their babies
calling it
home
And even the plants have found themselves their own little space
in between the concrete cracks, the tiny holes on the side of the wooden fence, under the heaviest rocks and between the roots of the thickest oak tree
The moss growing in a almost like a highlighter green color
and tiny snails would crawl over the rocks ever so slowly
And the sky would turn to every shade of purple and pink
the kind of color that every girl would stare at with admiration
By then we would go back inside and rush to the kitchen to see
what was for dinner that night—lasagna was in the oven
The year I turned thirteen I would fight with my parents a lot
and then I’d lock myself up in the bathroom
because at that time I had to share rooms with my sister
and I would find tiny little spiders in the corners of the bathroom walls
Blowing on it to see them scrunch up their legs
and they would be my friend for the night
I told them all of my secrets and how I wanted to move out
and they were good listeners
Now in a different country and in a different house
I still have fights with my mom and still lock myself up in the bathroom
I turn to the corners to search for a friend
but spiders don’t seem to find this house interesting enough to live in
and I think I might know why
Rikako Kurasawa is a 3rd year student in the Department of English Studies who loves to write poems in her tiny notebook she keeps in her pocket. She is obsessed with Roald Dahl’s short stories and spends hours looking at makeup and fashion blogs.
Angles 