Hick is a bad word

TW: suicide

The school district never told us who.
They just emailed, One of your fellow students
has passed. More info TBA!
And when the next-door principal
got arrested for child porn, we weren’t
even notified. But that’s irrelevant—
when the kids die
we knew it was a suicidal infliction.
The kill count was skateboarding accident: one, terminal illness: one,
but self-annihilation: seven. 
The first step was to text 
your inner circle. 
Had your best friend killed themself
without telling you? 
At least give a heads-up! 
But it was no-body, the fleeting locker neighbor or passed bathroom buddy.
The next step was to make a group chat: 
anyone heard? no :( 
anybody got a guess? not yet :/
The final step was Facebook: 
a dating app for the dead.
Even my father had a posthumous profile, 
his best picture and bio 
(I miss you Paul, much love in the sky <3).
You’d check the intensive suspects,
find forgiveness posts and funeral dates. 

My favorite was Danielle.
We were best friends 
in elementary, breast friends, because we loved nestling our 
hands and bras together. But in middle school
her grandma moved her
to some prissy school to teach manners.
The rich must have smelled her
and killed her because
when she died
her bio was:
H*ck is a bad word. 
But they never announced
how she did it or 
how my breasts felt
when she chose to die.

Illustration by Marta Zubieta