Toxicocalamus spilolepidotus

it’s in a book, i think, buried in the thick soil of an index,
the places to find me. i’m a name and a shape and a color
maybe, but i don’t know if i’m anything else; they saw me
once and they’ve been searching ever since.

but they haven’t found me. and they won’t find me;
i have been hiding in the crevices of their shoes for so many years since,
trampled by months and mouths and quiet desperation,
but they’ve never once bothered to check their boots.
i will remain here, as long as i need to, until they tire themselves out.

Alyssa Hanna graduated from Purchase College in May 2016 with a degree in Creative Writing and a minor in History. Her poems have appeared in Reed Magazine, The Mid-American Review, The Naugatuck River Review, Cholla Needles, Crack the Spine, Rust + Moth, and was nominated for a 2017 Pushcart Prize. alyssa is an aquarium technician and intends on pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing. She lives in Westchester with her fish and four lizards. follow her @alyssawaking on twitter