Paper Wings

There was an empty desk

beside mine on the first day.

I didn’t notice the

kaleidoscope that was always

there in my palm until

the alphabetized

reminder of her absence.

I saw through its glass the

distorted what-ifs of

a town enlarged with her in it.

In tinted shards I was never

alone at tables,

never behind on sidewalks,

never holding to my eye what

would have been.

We were supposed to be

at the center of it all,

but now I have nothing to clutch

that is real.

Her name was called

to the stage, and then mine,

because the seating chart

on the last day

was in alphabetical order.

But then I moved the mirrors

from my line of sight

and saw the sobering blues

that come with being on

the wrong side.

-A.J