Start slow.

Tie your shoelace. Kiss a rock

and let the igneous rock coat

your lips — natural balm, natural

repeller of men. You avert your eyes

like a little girl but wait until you grow.

Then: blossom.

One strong independent woman

with sparkly nails like daggers.

But remember to spell check your resume.

Hold tight to your brothers and your sisters.

Write down your fears and feed the papers

to the fire. Throw them into the piranha

pond by the kitchen’s back door.

Your ambitions hide upstairs

in the attic, peering out of the dust mites

like dry ice in the summer.

You are Mrs. Beautiful, and you should really stop

wishing you had straighter teeth.

You have a big brain, a hammering heart,

Full lungs, and, hey, a bladder.

Pee your fears on the grass. Snakes should cower.

Take off your sunglasses. Frame your senior portrait.

Blink your eyes, make a wish, open them. See love.

Jamie Uy (黄洁美) is a Filipino-Chinese-Singaporean high school student. She likes guerrilla art, poetry slams, flute beatboxing, and editing Parallel Ink lit + art magazine. Jamie would like to thank her parents, Jerson and Cristina, and her brother, Jacob, for being wonderfully tolerant of her antics over the years.