by Hannah Edwards

She said, "I'm afraid the fluorescent light

is going to fall on me,"

and I laughed, glancing up


at its cracked shield, the low, grating hum

“What if the mercury gas leaks out and—"

I told her she would live forever, then,


like an old Chinese king searching

for the secret to long life.

“I don't want to live that long. I don't know


how much more of that noise I can take.”

I looked up, but wasn’t wise enough

to see pointed shards, already falling.
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Hannah Edwards, in her spare time, is a teaching assistant at a local children’s theatre, where she demonstrates talents such as standing on “just one finger” or “breathing under water.” Recently, she and her girlfriend used 3D scanning and modeling to construct authentic Greek drama masks for productions of Oedipus Rex and Seven Against Thebes. Her previous publications include poems in Eclectica and Sugar House Review.