I know a story
i know a story about a girl standing in the middle of a cornfield
asking for an eraser.
with quivering arms and exposed palms.
she can’t shake the soil from the callouses on her feet.
she can’t brush the dirt off her white T-shirt without smears.
and smudges. so many smudges.
to this day, they say,
she hangs her head to the left
in the middle of that field
and doesn’t even blink
when the wind takes over
and the crispy husks scrape her bloodshot eyes.