My name is a dark color.
One that tries to flatten itself into shadows,
but always stands
out for being such an odd shade.
It’s like r o l l i ng
waves, long and lingering.
Or maybe spring-
water you draw out from earth
in gossamer streams.

It sounds awkward
slipping out
of a substitute’s mouth the way
children smile uncertainly with braces.
It sounds mangled. Chewed up
by the brain, mulled over from A to S, and spit out by the
tongue. It means nothing.
And yet, it means me.

Shunmel Syau is a seventeen-year-old from sunny California. When not daydreaming, you can find her trying to transfer thoughts into words.