To Caitlyn

A man, all rough hands and soft tones once told me
That wild things live back alley, late night, careless
The words were my aunt drowning
In the nearby lake and neighbourhood boys
Crying over the corpse
I said wild was softness
I choked out that you, Poet, are the softest best
I’ve ever read

Beast being girl with a caramel chest
The ledge, the moment between life and death
Where I could jump but love the world
Far too much
Because you love it too
Because I imagine you walking afraid but
“Damn right, I’m going to try”
And my thighs embarrass me but I pretend
We carry the sun in them and moving forward
Kills the Dark Age
I pretend we are electric women

Sometimes I am the aunt, the cat
My uncle put in a bag filled with rocks
And brought down to the sirens
Sometimes I cry for days
Laughter, my infant, hiding in the sobs
White walls call me manic so
I paint them purple
Your love and my love and the love of all
Loving for only love’s sake
Loving because we can take the draft
We are open window girls
We are rainstorm in the passenger seat,
Chocolate in bed, love notes in lockers,
We are vulnerable, Poet

This is wild.
This is hope.

By Elisa Vita

Biography:

Elisa Vita is a 17 year old art student and writer from Quebec, Canada. She speaks to the plants and trees that she paints (Italian to the flowers, French to the pines, English to the rest). She dreams of writing books, days spent making art, and one day having a greenhouse in her very own backyard. Her room is full of loose papers and napkins, covered with verse.