by Felix O.
Striding down the museum halls, head turning side to side, breath trapped inside my bones,
happiness swelling beyond measure, I come to the masterpiece itself.
It growls at me
It measures me,
Slowly dusting myself off, rising from the pearly marble ground, I come face to face with the beast itself, its red eyes glowing, teeth sharp as knives. It jumps.
“Perfect.” I remark
A smile carves its way onto my face
I pick my pen off my paper
PS 122 Mamie Fay School, Queens, NY
Bertha Rogers, writer‐in‐residence