A Stenciled House in Blue

by Cristina Medina

CW: gun violence My child drew a picture of our house, me sitting here in the pouch of the armchair, my body threatened with a violence. The pain was not extraordinary, circle within circle for eyes balanced on an empty triangle. Six lines stilted, a blue house. A cylinder gun etched to my mom’s temple. I forgot— when we are children we can’t keep from popping up from where we are told to stay. We crumple the spirograph screams of our parents. And now I hear them, and now they follow me. He knew I would never leave this boxed house. It wasn’t as if I was a child —   Artwork by: Senjuti Kundu