Loom Love

Mom bought me Loom Bands. Crazy Rainbow Looms. Thousands of links of multi-colored plastic. I am Sissy. I am eleven. They call me challenged. Or disturbed. I am on a two-week restriction at home; they say I was stalking a student a school. There was a scream-fest. Loom Love. Over. Under. Over. Under. Pull too hard and the plastic snaps. I wonder if I can weave my dreams from synthetic rings, 21 hooks, 170 clips and a loom board. Mom said I could make an entwined heart, a pig emoi, a whoa bow or a dragon scale cuff. I want to make a bow and arrow, shoot it into the heavens and catch a star; pull myself into the Universe.