Nick Coury

We drew his name in the sky
With teeth and bones
From the shadows our bodies made in the sun.

We moved in the air like chess pieces.
One space at a time?
Moments are of the essence, we said.

We outlined our home in the clouds
With sharpened sticks, and made windows.
Cut out floors in place of wood planks.

We drew back our makeshift hands
From the cold sheets which held us down.
We died in our sleep that night.

-Nick Coury
Journalism senior

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