Disclaimers for a Student — Caitlin Spinner

Remember there are no guarantees. 
No city is safe in this place 
that swears the gun-wavers will save you. 

It’s easy for them to joke about dodging bullets 
when they’re the ones firing them. 

I wasn’t born in America, 
but the bullets that will pierce my chest 
will render me 
a loyal citizen. 

and you’ll  
look me in the eye, 
and shoot your opinions like punches 
and my rib cage 
can be ground into gunpowder.  

My body learns the shape of fear 
and the room remembers it. 

So 
always check behind your back 
where it smells like gun smoke 
erupting in violent pops 
too fast and too loud to count.  

How many of those rounds, 
like flocks of raven— 
can carry our souls to the afterlife? 

our bodies 
are the rude awakening 
to politicians 
who barter our lives for bribe. 

 
 We practice hiding before we practice living, 

 curling our futures into corners 

marked “safe” 

We learn the alphabet of exits, 
before we learn cursive. 

We practice stillness as if silence can shield us. 

 
Our books are carried in our bags 

like weapons 
anticipating to be charged 
with a quiet understanding 
that safety is something borrowed 

never owned. 

even here 
where fear sharpens everything 
we find ourselves wondering 
what we’d say if we were allowed to finish. 

In your eyes 
I want to see 
for our futures      
a sense of hope 

imagining  
our graduation speeches  
that should never turn to eulogies  

and will never 
combat kids in the halls 
saying “we don’t care” 
with ribcages full of hate  

 no one will listen to moments of silence 

 so all I can hear 
are 9millimeters rattling the walls like pinballs 

until it’s so devoid of color 
it all ends in ruin 

yet in that moment
The bell rings like it always does 
and nothing is ever the same again 

our childhood ends 
not with a warning 
but with a drill. 


Caitlin Spinner majors in Creative Writing at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. She's currently the Junior Prose Editor for an award winning Student LitMag Elan. She's been published in magazines such as Alternate Routes, The Weight Journal, and Elan. She's also been heavily recognized by her regional Scholastic Art and Writing awards—receiving a gold key, three silver keys, and four honorable mentions in 2026. She's apart of organizations including Literary Arts Honor Society (LAHS) and National English Honor Society (NEHS).



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shundori komola naache (the beautiful orange dances) — Samia Mimo