Table Of Contents:

Golden Rays By Molly Wimette

Female vs. Woman By Maggie Sekella

Elegy by Gavin Silver

Dry Erase By Tyler Robinson

Show And Tell By Pauline Batan

Birds of a Feather By Fiori Mitchell

Lucky Dog By Fiori Mitchell

What I can’t Do By Tyler Robinson

Golden Rays

Molly Wimette—

Soft rays of sunshine come through the window

Lighting up the entire room with their radiant beams

I roll around, burying my messy hair in the pillow

I’m not ready to wake up.


Mourning doves coo outside

Echoing through the open window

spring breeze pulling me relentlessly from my bed

I’m not ready to wake up.

I walk outside and sit on the sidewalk

The pavement scorches my skin

hot from soaking in the morning sun

I’m not ready to wake up.

Looking past the blinding sphere of light

The pearlescent moon still sits quietly

A shimmering sphere of beauty sitting up so high

Not ready to go to sleep, just as I am not ready to wake up.

Female Vs. Woman

Maggie Sekella—

Bubblegum pink,
curls circle slender shoulders.
Barbie girl, doll, object.
Objectively inferior,
materialistic,
plastic woman.
Made to be tamed,
back broken on a narrow bed.
Nod, smile,
twirl those curls
around claws of acrylic.
Stick to the plan,
suck and fuck until she’s stuck
to train tracks
wondering why she can’t stand.


Blue hues ripple off water
where she washes
dirt from her skin.
She’s thin, bones peaking through the seams
so beautiful, so
beautifully alone.
The moon weighs heavy on wet shoulders,
on lidded eyes,
fist clenched tight
enough to hold the lie
that she’s okay.
Eating
okay.
She’s sleeping
okay.
Enough,
for everyone else but her.

Elegy

Gavin Silver—

Born from the same earth, your story ended while mine ever egan

You held your pride for the world to bear wites

That was no question for you

And yet you managed to give when you couldn’t give

See when you could’t ee

Why did you push yourself?

You could have had ten more years, but you decided the present was more important

That yesterday would count more than today

Now you rest, leaving all your poppies behind to rise by themelves

You had trut

You had faith

Yet you let go

Only to join the ibis of a fleeting memory.

Dry Erase

Tyler Robinson— 

I can use a dry erase marker just like a purple crayon,
Draw myself a house, erase the rope from the fan.
Get myself a car, put some extra money in my hand.

Good thing my life is dry erase
Cuz I can get rid of all of my mistakes
Never learn from anything, the world is mine to make.

I can draw a picture-perfect life,
And use the marker like a knife,
Keep in what’s worthy and cut out any strife.

Fill in the empty space with all the things I want,
Draw myself some jewelry that I can go outside and flaunt.
When I get old, I can erase the wrinkles and the lines,
Forget everything that made my life once mine.

Draw some friends and family when they all disappear,
Wipe the slate clean and the whiteboard clear
Because now my life is dry erase, I have nothing to fear
Nuclear annihilation or finding a career

Cuz I can erase anything and anyone
I’ll end up laughing all alone 
With all the things I’ve done

Show And Tell

Pauline Batan—

The earnest part of me hopes you are well.
However, I pray to gods above
I do not get to see you show and tell.

When you took your leave, I crumbled and fell.
A naive girl blinded by love.
A survivor who hopes you are well.

It is no use letting the memories dwell.
You are a part of me I can’t get rid of.
But please, do not let me see you show and tell.

I fear you might think that I wish you hell,
And fuel my fears when push comes to shove.
Still, the painful part of me hopes you are well.

I swear to steer clear of “hellos” and “farewells”.
Find it in yourself not to reach the unloved.
So, I do not have to see you show and tell.

Above all, when the spell has been repelled
And you are no longer what dreams are made of,
The earnest part of me hopes you are well.
Yet, I’ll be damned, if I see you show and tell.

Birds of a Feather

Fiori Mitchell —

Gawking crows
Their cawing laughter:

Look!
             Look!

How it struggles
             How it

                          Fails.

Winged crowd
They come flocking to see:

Plumage puffed and squawking,
Pretending,
With my painted-black feathers, I dare
To breathe this air

Try!
             Try!

     Again.
You will get it this time

                          Surely.

Croaks their incessant mocking,
A lie.
Never to flock together

Lucky Dog

Fiori Mitchell —

Her nose rests against my thigh; white hairs form a graying wreath around her eyes, watery, as they stare up at me, pleading for a scrap, I imagine, more likely a scrap of food than attention. I scratch the top of her head anyways. Ever in motion, her tongue reaches to touch my hand; I try to avoid the slime from which she shows her love. Too late. The scent of dog breath lingers on my hand, waiting patiently for me to wash it away once again. 

I hope it won’t hurt when I wash it away for the last time, when there is no more love to be given, no more scent of you that lingers, no more motion, no more head to scratch. I hope that day never comes. But I know it will. Until then, I let the kiss remain on my hand for a few moments longer than usual.

What I Can’t Do

Tyler Robinson— 

Life is not a story I know how to tell
Love is not a feeling I can express well

Sadness isn’t something you can capture in a song
Every time I explain myself the words all come out wrong

My head is like an anchor, weighing down my thoughts
My words spill out my mouth whether I want them too or not

I cannot say I love you as clearly as I want
I tried to write it down, but I couldn’t choose a font

Every time I try my best I cannot help but fail
I scratch my head until it bleeds and I lose a nail

But if I die tomorrow, I want you to know,
I left my heart outside, frozen in the snow

I have no more feelings, my feet have gone numb too
But I couldn’t find another way to escape the thought of you