You are here to see yourself,

a mirror to the unblossomed world,

measured in cardinal rye and bruised letters;

ah, but here you are, shy and abstaining.

My precious girl, you exist in an unmastered state,

twilight in a crystal jar, you do not hesitate.

You insist on ardor, and surf, and the crooked wing.

You ask how you have gotten this far—

it is certainly not by stilling your shaken hand,

by writing the least, by holding back your blood.

Your own hell is silence, a lifetime

of empty tables serving unsalted bread.

But your heart is a feast, inviting the famished to dine;

ever-wandering, yet committed to its wine,

then igniting the salamander’s fire into spring.

Erica Vanstone is a mom, Executive Director, writer, and avid coffee drinker living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She started out this life as a filmmaker, with a degree from NYU Film, and found her way to running the sport of roller derby. Erica now manages its insurance entity and has an MS in Sports Business from Temple University. She spends her free time running and fostering good will between her two dogs and one highly opinionated cat.