i tuck my soul along with its wings
inside a small soap box under my bed.
in its place are white uniforms and a cap
chasing money trains to purchase their dreams
yet once in awhile, on stolen seconds just like this,
for a little air; i gingerly take them out
feed a little sunlight
dust off pleading cobwebs
while sewing the edges of my moth-eaten dreams.
True to the persona of the poem, Iryne is a clinical instructor drawn to poetry. The panel praised this piece for its genuine voice and its melancholic rhythm.