Yelaina Anton

After Adolescence

You walk the line drawn between
graveyards and elementary schools,
seeing the headstones from your

pink plastic seat, tasting the air of
the dead on your tongue while you eat
peanut butter sandwiches and potato chips.

Look around you. A bell sounds;
you and the other corpses come alive,
sauntering from one class to another,

quiet, listening, obedient. Faces hovering
high above yours; pupils looking
to tutors, bodies watching

from coffins as visitors stare at the
dirt. Look around you. The afterlife is
youth for the dead. Funerals

are births, and gravestones
are little shoes saved from
childhood. Children frequent

cemeteries, drawn to death;
seniors wait in nursing homes,
reminiscing their younger years.

Look around you. The in-between
is an illusion. You're either living
or dying.

ABOUT THE POET

Yelaina Anton hails from a small city outside Boston, USA and is studying Creative Writing at NUIG in Ireland. She tends to write about things that confuse and distress her, which is unfortunately everything. Find her in Perhappened Magazine, Versification, and Neuro Logical Magazine, and on Twitter at @yelainaanton