"Freshman Year" by Heidi Seaborn
Freshman Year
In a few days, I’ll be
myself
again
plucking
out poetry on my orange Brother typewriter at my dorm room desk.
Out my window, California jaybirds perch in the black oak tree like
sapphires in Grammie’s brooch. My roommate plays David Bowie’s
Golden Years over and over beat blending with the hammering of
construction across campus.
In a few days, I’ll be
myself
the doctor says.
Only scars
like traffic arrows
across my thin wrists.
Photo Credit: Staff