Sixth grade
you saw me as more
than a pair of lucky jeans
and a straight A student
who talked back

Seventh grade
we stuffed our friends into lockers
for a fight club
only we could be members of

Eighth grade
you moved up
and I started punching alone
waiting

Freshman year
you taught me how to breathe in
and exhale this angry smoke
I swore would fuse with the sun
we jumped off our childhood swings
and wished for a purpose

Sophomore year
you showed me that the best muse
is a best friend
carving ouijie boards from cardboard
and laughing lines of poetry
to the ghosts’ replies

Junior year
you kept me alive
holding my drowning body up
through the path of totality
keeping me sane in my mind’s apocalyptic traffic jam
as I processed my eclipse

Senior year
you popped the bubble
and took off running
towards the you I always knew
I sat veiled in a hotbox
to block out the empty seats surrounding me
losing my identity
without the friends who defined me

Now
you show up to the spring break party
your return the only thing
worth remembering
in this blackout 

Teaching me to forgive myself
Living proof I can trust someone else
My safe place
My saving grace
Lucy Wiedmar