that maybe forgiveness is relative.

Pasty pink fingers warble and wane

on popcorned white:

an inside-out sky bleeding orange,

bleeding yellow,

bleeding stars with no bodies.

What a thing it must be,

to be made of dappled light:

a butterfly wing shivering

under new sun.

Still, there are two universal truths:

humans are social creatures,

and decapitation ceases all function.

Sophie Hoss is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing and Literature from Stony Brook University. Her work has been featured in BOMB, The Los Angeles Review, Storm Cellar, and elsewhere. She has attended workshops at the Southampton Writers Conference and the IowaWriters Workshop. When she’s not writing, she can usually be found near the ocean or watching Seinfeld with her dog, Elmo.