she is too much all semicolon and sentiment and bright blinding color they call her comma they call her fuchsia but they never call her by her name they call her smart girl they call her lightbulb but they never see the broken glass they call her too much all run-on sentence and skinned knees and caps lock and crimson and each day she wears a new body to adorn her bones like adjectives and each day she is still too much her muchness a sentence with no period she is an em-dash and a burning midnight sun she is she is she is nameless and she is an empty room that they don’t want demolished just paint her a new color just put in some curtains they don’t want the building burned they don’t want the burning girl they love the color of the ash but don’t want the fire they want the sentence silenced but when she is poised on the cliff’s edge like a bird about to become light like icarus searching for warmth they beg her to step back and when she jumps she is