Sometimes I see myself as a fawn,
A delicate young thing.
Cautiously I stand, dipping my hooves into a desert’s sand.
Optimistic I delve deeper,
Only to sink deeper up to my lanky knees in the warm rocky fragments.
Dirtied and startled by this truth,
All I can do is wait for the desert heat to relinquish me.
My spots will rot to specks,
Muscle into a mucousy pus filled fat.
My eyes transfigure to lifeless marbles.
If I eventually find the animus to free myself,
Who’s to say I’m still a fawn.
Luke Coombs Misiak is an aspiring poet currently seeking a degree in English at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He grew up in the city of Chicago, a blissful melting pot of culture which Luke continues to draw inspiration from daily.