I remember building a cross, not knowing
how else to save myself. This is how
tigers are born – tangerine and striped
Tigers are loyal. I killed a
tiger once. I seared its
meat in a cast iron skillet and saved
the fur for a buttermilk
winter. Then I made a sweater. It fit like
worlds without end so I killed another
tiger. Soon, there were lots of stripes
but not enough keratin from its tiger
claw. Just like that, beast
to stripe to claw to nail.
I had forgotten how loyal
tigers are and when I showed
God my sweater, he
gave me my salvation bare
handed. That’s why
they invented gloves.
By Jennifer Boyd
Jennifer Boyd is a high school student from Boston, Massachusetts. She is a blog contributor at both the Huffington Post and Voices of Youth, UNICEF’s global online platform. Jennifer’s poetry has been published recently in New Plains Review, Glass Kite Anthology, the Critical Pass Review, and Tower Journal. Her work has additionally been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Hollins University, Smith College, and Princeton University. When not writing, she enjoys playing the piano, singing, and learning new languages.