Kristina Shue, Capital University

Gypsy sister, you kick off your shoes and lift
your skirts to see them billow in the wind.
You make a fool of me, dragging me along—
I who cannot keep up your thought-speed pace,
who lacks your ruby-studded shell of confidence—
to dance across lawns of people who never knew
a caravan, your restlessness driving you to drive me
to make a scene if nothing else. You adorn me: tie ropes
of glassy beads around my neck, put thick jangling
bracelets on my wrists as your own clank over sun-tanned
skin, and you cast cards for me, reading them as you will,
asking me only if you’ve forgotten a symbol
or a step. And nights, you make me lie with you
below winking constellations and a pregnant moon
to sing passion to the sky, shrieking our hearts out
to each other.

Kristina Shue is a 22-year-old Ohio college student waiting for the real world to come crashing down on her in beautiful and painful yet livable ways. She writes, teaches, reads, draws, sings, performs, and hopes to one day combine all of these with a teacher’s license and several puppets, and do some slice of good in this world.