shoulders of fire:
  her wings rise above her,
  bright red, setting her ablaze
  and yet stinging from the cool breeze.

her path is laid out in dashed and dotted lines:
  connecting constellations,
  connecting scars and moles and freckles,
  connecting each hole she'll have to leap across
  in order to make it to the next day.

progress measured in the lack of reactions
and the abundance of responses:
  her voice stays calm,
  hands are held steady
  while the mind searches only for positive words.

one step forward, but 3 steps back:
  one for mom, who doesn't trust her choices,
  another for the neighbor, who reminds her
  that she'd like to empty her insides
  to be thin, pretty, perfect,
  the last for the memories that she can't defeat-
  memories of his eyes and his mouth and his grip
  on her neck.  
of the memory of his inability to take no as an answer.

she is becoming a piece of summer:
  skin scorched brown,
  eyes clear and bright,
  arms and legs strong.

she is taking steps forward,
  a few backward as well,
but her fire is still alive
  and so is she.

so is she.