Third prize in Poetry, Tenth Annual Humanities and Sciences Writing Contest
I just noticed my
hair is the same color as
that deer my dad shot.
It’s a lovely lodge,
woods are dead silent at night.
The nightmares are not.
Been in this tree stand
all day, thinking how simply
that bear could kill me.
Sitting twenty feet
Up on a ski lift seat just
for him to kill bears.
His wrinkled skin folds
as he sleeps on his rifle
soft wind sways the stand.
I went from seeing
wild deer in my yard to
roaches in my room.
Can New York City
Not eat my soul? I’m prey in
The Concrete Jungle.
My landlord treats me
with as much respect as a
buzzing mosquito.
Nothing more than an
annoyance, something to be
killed and forgotten.
Never mind that I’m
really a human being
not a fucking bug.
Abigail's poem won third prize in SVA's Annual Writing Contest in the spring of 2022.