Issues

Lonely

Anonymous, ’26. Poetry. The man on the moon weeps for me. The stars sing for me. I cry into the arms of the constellations.
What She Told Me

By Asia Foland ’25. Poetry. She crawls out of her bathroom windowand onto her asphalt roof It’s quiet there, except for her jagged sobssevering moonlight into onyx strips like the dark salty ribbons crawling down the cuffs of hercoarse polyester sweater, it’s dirty now and soon she will unravel her parts as fluorescent lighttaunts her…
Reading Glasses

by Celeste Amidon, ’16. “So. How did you two meet?” By the time the food came, there were already three empty bottles of Prosecco on the table. Michael Fynch watched Allen Smith tap his cigarette out onto the empty bread plate on his placemat before pushing it away to make room for the steaming plate…
life as he knew it

by Katie Scholl ’15. It was a lovely day. Outside the stately dwelling there were green trees, and green grass. As young Adam viewed the garden, all he could notice forever was green, if not to count the yellow square in the sky. Black butterflies mechanically cycled out of the grass, only to disappear again…

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