On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
TITLE
NAME
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The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!
"Spinning" by Anina Yang '26
"Leave Me Alone" by Sabine Fuchs '25
Anna Han '24
Anna Palfy '23
Chloe Thiessen '23
"Titan’s Oxymoron"
Madison Esrey
made-up Tragedy cheekily bows from masks of cracked stone,
soil-black and omniscient rain washing away salesmen’s tears
falsified Comedy drolly drops curtains of white lace and paler powder,
adding their own choreographed spins to the thunderous applause
so cry at weddings and laugh at funerals
and dance to the furious scritch-scratching of the present
nothing is important and everything means everything
so don’t forget how October tastes and don’t remember yesterday
fear the poets, for if their heads are as heavy as they claim
their tongues would not dance to the encores so deftly
one eye downcast and the other on the horizon
always paints a blurred amalgamation of what they think they were
but listen if they solemnly share the tales of their broken shoulders,
earthquakes rattling them so frequently babes doze against their heartbeat
the muses have long since passed, but Atlas remains stagnant;
his immortal, immoral plight champions on.
Kaitlin Gasner '23
Carter West '24
Paloma Rincon '23
"Eternally Underserving"
(anonymous)
so I’ll learn to wake up next to myself
I’ll pull the blanket over her head
and I’ll use the measuring cups when I make her
breakfast.
I’ll drink my eight glasses of water
she’ll have a coffee at three,
and I’ll sing her lullabies
when she can’t sleep.
she yawns, her eyes twitch,
she is tired, but the noise keeps her awake
so I’ll earn her trust
and I’ll mess with her head,
I’m a parasite, yes, but aren’t I my own?
feeding on her ruin
"Adventures with G-Ma" by Zach Olrich '23
Jeffrey Huang '23
"chinatown: reconstruction"
Yoga Weng
and when my dad drives he spills
place behind him, trail
to barred off storefronts and the banana republic and
signs bleached empty, always white,
save for the last recollection of a saturday, picking at the peeled edges, sunburnt
entrances made exits of blurry understandings
underlined by a father’s certainty.
unreality:
restaurants like basements (where things get lost), gold plastic
advertisements taunting and railings caked with bodies and
parking lots
a carcass of red.
remembrance as fiction
smudging into death like present tenses and sleeping
how names do, curled like paper slips
in the mouth, tongued stopper on scarred throat, swallowing
unseen but there once, definitely.
when last monday,
was yesterday was last week,
chinatown sky a silence so blue
天*, as in above mortality, the way
incense cradles memory,
rot and all
temporary.
*天 (tian), which generally and colloquially refers to the sky, is also often
translated as having a double meaning with “heaven.” notably, this
construction of heaven is different from the commonly used western
construction, and can be translated more like above the mortal world, above
mortality, or as meaning something natural, innate, or also as celestial
bodies, spirits, phenomena, amongst other things.
