In 2016, a child wanted to build a sandcastle on a Disney resort beach
Caitlin Villacrusis
and was killed by an alligator. Mistaken for prey, like you. Sit with the headline
as if on a bird feeder. You trust the teeth that stare at you. You don’t know who you are
to them. Still, if the watchful eye is a hunter, you’re dead. Sit with the headline
as if on a beach. It doesn’t get better. Apprehension is a poison they slip into Club 33
cocktails. Our antagonist arrives with man-made $25,000 jaws. No defense, yet no man
argues or lusts. He is law. One suit is one body. He built tunnels underground
for a reason. Blood sifts through sand eventually after you’re dead. Sit with the headline
as if guilty, as if you only wanted a taste of the money. This was once your kingdom,
name reduced to product. Ask a dead man if he intended this, and he will still praise
his own glory. Time can be broken if money can be too. In 1971, you could die royally
for $4.75. Maybe you’ll be Lea, reborn into Broadway. Sit with the headline
as if in line. Unknowing of any life better or worse.
You’re a child. You’re already so impatient.
Sit with the headline
as if in line. Knowing. You ask cast members if working is worth it, and they don’t
understand. The performers have faces. The characters are costumes. You know of a life
better than this: “I am not depressed, I am a friend of depression.” You can get paid for this.
About the writer
Caitlin Villacrusis is a Filipina-American poet, a passionate photographer, and a self-confessed pessimist. A rising senior at an arts school, she is a Miami Book Fair “Speak Up” Student Ambassador and Poetry Mentee, serves as a South Florida Youth Poet Ambassador, and edits poetry at Hot Pot Magazine and The Lunar Journal. Her work has been recognized by Gigantic Sequins and the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers and is published in Seeds in the Black Earth Literary & Arts Magazine and Sophon Lit. She can be found screaming about Victoria Chang on Instagram at @catrose2022 or Twitter at @caitlinvwrites.