Written by Gwendolyn Lopez
Art by Ryan Loughlin

cup your hands around your eyes & tell me,
tell me—what is it you see?
through that spyglass of infinity,
the figure 8 of your hands
must make you feel endless.

you begin in all the parts i end.
in those crevices, those
deserted corners that even i
have forgotten to dust. you
spring to life—a sapling, roots
reaching out & bursting through my skin.
you find a way.

the 4-leafed clover, the shooting star,
the lucky, 8th month of august.
i’ve never believed in superstition, not
before you. i never made wishes,
never bit my nails at the sight of black cats
or wore red like it was a fortress.

now i take a pen & draw those figure 8s
on my arm, like they’re magic spells;
prophets of my future.
i cup my hands around my eyes
& wish with all my might that i was endless.