Sad Girls Like Busts in Art Museums

My chemistry teacher demonstrates stoichiometry, how
one number becomes one particle
becomes infinity.
And
I might not have an aptitude for science,
but
I am versed in the art of metamorphosis, of
coveting the comfort of another’s skin
and sculpting away the geometry of my silhouette until I achieve perfection
until I belong in a museum
with mannequins and cocktail dresses.

So I solve my chemistry homework in a mirror
and decide I like the sound of transmutation, the ability
to repudiate my identity and step into another,
a sketch becomes a painting becomes
contemporary art.

I am still delineating word problems in my reflection,
and my chemistry teacher might not like my answers
but these are the units of my life:
fleeting smiles and assignments, engilded in foil like gelt,
and words that prime my lips with oil paint.
See,

stoichiometry is the article of change
and what better paragon of change
than a girl rendered
in clumsy brushstrokes of chemicals and calories.

By Dana Blatte

Biography:

Dana Blatte is a sophomore in high school from Massachusetts. Previously, she has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers and NaNoWriMo’s Young Writer’s Program. Additionally, her work is published in or forthcoming from The Aurora Review, The Heritage Review, and Second Revolution. An aspiring illustrator, author, and polyglot, Dana dreams in lyricism, fairy tales, and obscure indie music.