Elizabeth Acevedo

the slight angling up of the forehead
neck extension                        quick jut of chin

meeting the strangers’ eyes
a gilded curtsy to the sunfill in another

in yourself      tithe of respect
in an...

it was always the older kids
running to Riverside,
hiding behind trees and underneath

jungle gyms, holding their breath
in the darkness as the other team
tried to find them.

I could not wait to be old enough;
a captor’s arms clasping.
Manhunt, manhunt 1, 2, 3.
 This poem...

voice of incoming 2 express train

pray herself altar


contort mouth shotgun:

sawed off           a saw


soften tongue songbird

hands mosaicked mirrors


donning skin like battle gear

dawning skin like evening gown


this name pinned on her shoulders;

a heavy mantle. an incantation.