NORTH TEXAS REVIEW

A LITERARY & ARTS JOURNAL

we were once friends

Xaviera Hernandez

we were once friends

but now your words are nails
hammered into wooden planks

(do you feel the splinters
grafted into your palms?).

slowly, you build a box
around me: my height in length,

enough space for one embrace.
you pour the dirt over me.

my words are cotton balls inside
my throat. i stare at you

until the choking earth
blocks you from my sight.