By: Gaby Kill

I am melting butter
in AP Statistics
draped over the desk
warm dripping out of leaky sleeves
as I slide puddley down the hallway my mother screams,
 “Finally, some fat inside you!”
someone needs to pour out my sneakers
wash me out of my socks
I have been retreating inwards until my thighs only bridge skinny jean fabric with unshaved leg hair
  clarified. melty. hungry
I am melted butter
soaked into carpet
and tile and trash can
and everyone around me is scrambling to scrape me up
pour me in a jar
pray for solidification      liquid boy
when the bell rings
greasy stew bones will be left behind where I sat.