They always placed me here:
In the outfield,
With the dandelions
And the cartwheels.

Spinning round and round,
Until Rachel shouted,
"Hannah, kick it! Kick it!"

The ball was huge,
Ginormous—
A little Pluto.
I kicked it with all my might
Straight towards the grey city
With the tall skyscrapers
And pins and needles
Shooting towards the sky.

I promise you,
I didn't mean to.
But little Pluto came crashing down
On your city
And with the weight,
I killed you.

A little dandelion kick
And you were gone.

In your will,
You bought me a ticket to Paris
And $1,000 to spend on cheese.

But I couldn't leave.

I tried to confess
How much I forgive you
For using your words
When you were alive,
To exploit me.
But the sounds are caught in my throat
Clenched by my unruly fists,
Unable to unravel themselves
Into spoken word.
My lips mutter,
“I’M SO SORRY”
In big letters—
But the sound does not escape.


I crushed you with a dandelion kick,
And after all of this—
You still remembered my dream
And held onto me,
Placed me in your will.

Then I awoke—
Not in Paris,
Not shoving Brie in my face
Not wearing the heels I packed.