Melt
Kyla Wilson, ’24. Poetry. I’ve watched the snow melt Every fall or winter day, I’ve watched the snow melt Till my hair starts to fray I’ve watched the snow melt Like I’m a cigarette on an ashtray. Now you will watch me melt, As I start to melt away.
Keep readingI hate being called a snowflake
Anonymous, ’24. Poetry. Snow It’s white, fluffy, and fun Each snowflake is content with its individuality, Its strength grows as many just like it unite, And suddenly, they become snow. a mountain Towering above the neighborhood People stare With disgust Disdain Despair, even. They see the manual labor it takes to Clean out their driveways Shovel through paths Of old, muddy grime Start their 2006 Nissan Quest, Which stopped liking the cold years ago Others stare With delight and Desperation You could call these folks childish, sure They couldn’t imagine anything other than Diving face-first into the wet, biting cold…
Keep readingCaramel Leaves
Anonymous, ’24. Poetry. A lonesome palm tree with caramel leaves a sky descends from blue to white not a cloud in sight. Prickly pears, Golden barrels, and San Pedros emerge from amber sand. The sand sees the sea slice the sky in half Close your eyes Crashing waves let out a constant hum Flapping wings follow the caws of a flock of gulls Wet feet slap softly on hard dry concrete Far away murmurs talk about you behind your back Cover your ears Sulphurous, salty, and somewhat nauseating shells and skin from sea turtles Suffocating On saran wrap and Synthetic…
Keep readingI went swimming
Ena, ’24. Poetry. I open my eyes. I am in the open ocean. I can swim, sure, but I am not scared of drowning. I look down, into the murky void below me. I begin to panic. I fear what is down there, a stingray? a whale? something even worse? I fear what I am at the mercy of. I look around for safe ground, a boat maybe, but I see nothing but an open ocean stretching to meet the sky. I panic more. I kick my legs faster, fearing increasingly what I could possibly be grabbed by or maybe…
Keep readingEarly Application
Nick Nicolazzo, ’24. Poetry. How is it that I’m always pulled by waves? I can’t tell which direction I’m going The same voices push and pull day and day. I’m not able to be free and flowing. It’s rare when the waves tell me a story Calm or powerful they are always there Making decisions for me when only I need to be the only one. I swear. I love the ocean but sometimes, I need A pond where only I can make my waves. But without the waves, I will cry and bleed But taking that step creates a…
Keep readingEmpty
Anonymous. Poetry. I didn’t have a childhood. Too rich for it. My father was too distant; my mother disinterested. Instead, I got their money. But I was always searching for that missing piece—someone or something that would make me whole. I thought I had found that piece in my husband. It turned out I had married my father. He had no interest in me, only my money and making more of it. In order to escape the rotation of brunches at the club, school galas, and yoga retreats that had become my life, I attempted to escape. The only problem…
Keep readingBalance
Paul Awdeh, ’23. Poetry. Perfunctory in our actions in our social and emotional in our sphere of life. Where nothing matters but our own knowledge of life. When this is challenged we become fuller and bolder with the unhindered possibilities. Because equilibrium reaches a balance Balance of life, of Earth And this compromise reaches all of us Brings back the green, the flowers, the animals in a perfunctory way.
Keep readingLonely
Anonymous, ’26. Poetry. The man on the moon weeps for me. The stars sing for me. I cry into the arms of the constellations.
Keep readingWhat 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 return to the hue; the home She will peel off her polyesterAnd soften to fresh cotton Then she will do it all again the next night
Keep readingseen: 11:46PM
poem by Gabby Clifford, ’16 Come see me Because so easily I let myself Be seen by those around me And hardly seen By those who secretly lie beside me The crisp air and my nonchalant face Hide my despair as I try to grasp the chair I clumsily sit on and turn my head to the screen And what I mean, this time, is to be seen The earth shattering nothingness Of the crush sitting beside you in class Screeching his chair closer to you He laughs at your awkward jokes But will never know How hard you want…
Keep readingI Went Swimming
Ena Edmonds, ’24. Poetry. I open my eyes. I am in the open ocean. I can swim, sure, but I am not scared of drowning. I look down, into the murky void below me. I begin to panic. I fear what is down there, a stingray? a whale? something even worse? I fear what I am at the mercy of. I look around for safe ground, a boat maybe, but I see nothing but an open ocean stretching to meet the sky. I panic more. I kick my legs faster, fearing increasingly what I could possibly be grabbed by or…
Keep readingA PHANTASIA
By Anson Richman, ’25 Do you see it? Silver towers rising like upturned nails,no, like vines climbing stakes,on an endless quest for the sun, whose light makes them shine brighter.Below them, an endless pool of emerald green. Not just grass, but shrubs,moss that caresses your feet,vines you once were so sure were weeds,and flowers everywhere. And oh, the music!Strains of melodies you know,shifting and weaving into forms entirely new,rejoining each other in an unprecedented refrain. Horizons surround you in all directions. Everything is free. You are free. But you can’t see any of it.You can’t know it. Because it is…
Keep readingKismet
By Paula Dalzell Villalonga, ’25 During temperamental summersShe rises warmand people tread over her course skinin wheelsShe cries hot tears before middaythat wash the childrenand cloak young lovers in its dewAnd in the afternoonShe grins from the farthest beach east to the farthest beach westso the swimmers can comb her waters as they weave between waves that are lit bright blue by her effulgent smile.Her heart cannot be explainedor even imagined The only way we may be able to grasp her is by describing her in terms of the physical objects we can seeshe is too far outside the scope…
Keep reading1938
By Abraham Budson, ’22 On a frost tipped cold-mid morning, halfway through the year. The old gym dark and quiet, the new one crystal clear. As the students would soon enter and just as soon embark As the light shut off forever The floor all dust and dark As songs and speeches sounded the glorious nation praised Commencements and somber moments The new flags promptly raised Students would soon start classes On the nearly hallowed ground The school bell ringing out An almost sacred sound The heavy treads soon rumbled The old walls would meet their fate Of the old…
Keep readingHow to Get Away with Murder
A prose poem by Editor-in-Chief Jacob Landau, ’22 Ten violets grow in soft water. Another eight lilies, struck by the early March sunlight, rise through warm gravel. Fifteen roses appear in melting snow. Fifty sunflowers soar through Florida marshes. Dozens of bouquets emerge from the sullen ground daily. Every year, thousands of flowers emerge—yet again in America. Flowers grow every year without interruption, but only in spring do they bloom, the sun collapsing on green leaves, the trees harnessing power from the sun, the harnessed energy finally blooming. From the unknown comes daylight, which allows seeds to grow into flowers…
Keep readingSecond Residence
Because I could not run for home, It kindly ran for me Reminders, hints everywhere Yet nowhere to run. I saw the hope of travel diminished, Destroyed. How I mourned the road not taken. Shivers down my spine, Entangled. I can not help but think of the sights unseen. Wonders in the place not visited. Does home make you shiver, Does it make me shiver? But like a warm candle, the home has hope. A place that holds answers to the questions long-held. Are they real questions, or speculations, All long resolved. Someplace safe, it feels like at last. A…
Keep readingof auburn suns and frozen skies
A poem by Chloe Fang, ’23, winner of our transition contest The leaves were vivid, burning with a carnelian-amber intensity. You gazed down the street, at the trees whose leaves were once peridot green but were now a range of goldenrods, orange topaz, and garnet. They wouldn’t be for much longer. Amidst the wonderful fall tones around you, with every possible shade of a sunset lying at your feet, you’d think it was like someone knocked over a paintbox of leftover embers from a fire. Taking in the last of the sunshine through the trees, you stood alone on your…
Keep readingat last
a poem by Clara Renner, ’24 Stepping into the warm sun. My feet warmed by the soft sand beneath them. The light wind blowing my long hair. My sunglasses shading my eyes from the bright sunlight. The smell of the salty ocean and fresh cinnamon churros on the pier. My feet washed by the waves of the pleasantly warm crisp blue ocean. The green palm tree’s leaves gently swaying in the calm wind. Jumping into the refreshing pool with my brother. Slowly melting in the toasty hot tub. Going out for delectable ice cream after an event filled day with…
Keep readingmy stomps
a poem by Dilen Marra, ’22 I stomp down the path I watch other people tiptoe down the path They look like swans swimming down the river that I once fished at I move with them We are salmon swimming up the stream of life I’ve been stomping for an eternity For if you stomp down the path, one day feels like an eternity A mallet is slamming into my feet and my feet turn into red balloons The red balloon that is attached to the child for dear life by nothing but a string I cannot let myself slow…
Keep readingyou are a lie
a poem by Dilen Marra, ’22 Trust me, I know a lot about lies And you are a lie You are the voice in the back of my mind The voice that tells me that I will see the sun, the candle, and the fireflies But, what lives inside of me can tell you otherwise You are the voice that tells me to keep my head held high and look at the sky When I look up at the empty sky, I can’t see the ground I can’t see the sharp material on the path ahead of me Because of…
Keep readingfall
a poem by fall contest winner Simon Zalesky, ’20 The leaves die but they will come again The water freezes and it snows when The darker times are out then But do not fret or weep and cry For summers coming the light will rise There is no light without the dark And there is no good without evil’s part There’s one path and we must stand tall Because Autumns colors are soon to fall
Keep readingeverything is fine
a poem by Chloe Fang, ’23 Everything will be fine, they say, as mothers and fathers fight desperately behind them, trying to keep their sons and daughters close to them. Everything will be fine. This is for their good, they say, as children scream and thrash, fighting to stay with what’s left of their broken family. Everything will be fine. They should be deported, they say. It’s a mercy that we allow them to stay here. What does it matter that they’re separated? Less trouble; they’re not human like us anyway. Everything is fine, says our president. Climate change is…
Keep readingonly with a body
a poem by Emily Banthin, ’20 Today I walked through a hollow house accompanied by figures with tattoos made of silver crosses hung from the tiny hairs of a neck. Their eyes were open so wide I was pretty sure their irises were held in place by something I do not possess, because my eyes would have fallen from their sockets, onto the floor like rocks that make dents in the carpet. Their mouths and eyes said, how beautiful, as mine stared at the dark brown rows shackling books to their backs, and I watched heads bent over and saw…
Keep readingthe power of representation
a poem by Shaffaf Tariq, ’21 Not very hard Not too bad It’s been fine Outsider, left out Subconscious subtle exclusion I feel different The majority feel accepted Represented and welcomed They walk the same path Share the same privilege Almost always accepted Almost never questioned The minority float along The ones who “cannot relate” The same ones who feel isolated But what can be done? Inclusivity and acceptance already ring true Right? Educate Learn Represent equally
Keep readingstars and stripes
a poem by Julia Rocha, ’21 “Immigrants come here to steal our jobs,” they say. Yet the people who say that don’t want those jobs anyway; Some immigrants work at Dunkin’ Donuts or McDonald’s just for minimum pay. There are immigrants that have a job high up in companies; Secured through hard work, Just like everyone else, you see. However they are mistreated and looked down upon, Some have an accent since English isn’t their native tongue. They are belittled for the way they talk, Even when they’re just speaking on the sidewalk. All ages and races, Immigrants come for…
Keep readingjealousy
a poem by Winter Contest Winner Dilen Marra, ’22 Every one of his bright hairs, the color of the sun, Stays aligned with the others, held by a substance that smells of hundreds of dollars. They scream out to everyone, letting people know that they are there. I bring my hand to my head, Pulling on the knots in my hair that I can never get out. Every time I glance over at his unknotted, shiny, Even hair, my face burns as if I were standing, In the middle of a desert, in Arizona, for eternity. My fingernails dig into…
Keep readingfor you
a poem written by Anjali Jain, ’21 My friend, Sometimes I see you reading in the grass. I see you splayed out beneath the fire-white sky, like the petals of a flower, or a new-broken window, refracting fractals of light and shadow and brutal, breaking, broken edges and edges and edges on end, the end. Screw that. I’m a liar, and you know the endings I have told. You don’t end with edges, don’t end with broken, don’t end with your legs carrying you to the door. Friend, your jagged tongue comes from somewhere, from eyes that see into the…
Keep readingwait!
a poem by Rebecca Eneyni, ’19 wait! she tells him her eyes flushing a wild forest green that matches the t-shirt she wore that morning, the ratty holey grungy tattered cloth that perches gently on the dimples of her angular shoulder blades wait! she says again as his gait maintains forward mom-en-tum the humble shuffle of his soft feet tip-tapping in a constant tempo wait! she says, one final time and the curved arch of his back transfigures, twists, squirms, his muscles- aching to be with her not daring to turn back
Keep readinguntitled
a poem by anonymous, ’21 Sometimes your face is the equivalent of ‘what if’ If i could tell you that Your smile could keep the stars From going out when the morning comes. If i could tell you I think your future is like your height Unlimited and stretching upwards in all its glory, like a tree before it’s ripped away during the storm that broke against my bedroom window. our ten years as friends is written in the lines of my palms as they push against your back when I tackle you for a hug after not seeing you…
Keep readingsome people
a poem by Rebecca Eneyni, ’19 Some people in this life Have pure intentions, Untainted kindness, And blazing hearts, Aching to be shared. These people are the sun peeking from the crevice between humble snowed mountains They are the color seeping from the lilting dewy flowers of a spring morning They are the resilient yellow shine of a gibbous moon piercing the muffled dark They are the beauty that grows ever more brilliant in the face of a cruel world.
Keep readingarmy jacket
a poem by Anjali Jain, ’21 There will come a day when a wire hanger will become the bony pair of shoulders that will bear the worn-out weight of you. It’s the weight of a rope in the hangman’s hands and also an embrace. You will smell Like spiderwebs. You will taste like the tear that landed on the collar long ago unfurling into the whiskers of dew-strung grass my fingers chased my lashes brushed it’s quiet in its drying. It lives in your zipper, The stinging salt of memory the sun slathered on the trees and when I glimpsed…
Keep readingawake
a poem by Shaffaf Tariq, ’21 Awake Long before the sun rises Shh Don’t tell But I never went to sleep in the first place Cold sheets soothe my scorching skin As I drink in the glowing moonlight My eyes burn from the withdrawal of sleep Or maybe it’s from the flames that never leave Finding solace in the darkness Kaleidoscopic visions playing in my head I live for these moments Which are mixed in with the unfortunate present No dreams could beat this lovely night Quiet are the birds, now Perhaps they are asleep Resting at…
Keep readingXXIII
a poem by Maia Foley, 19′ The skies of my eyes are raining onto the slatted wooden bridge beneath them; the thick droplets, each one containing enough damage to be worth an entire hurricane, drip onto the bars with an arrhythmic “plink, plank, plunk,” their music calling nearly in time with that beneath my hands. And my hands, of course, they know the sounds of these storms by heart; know how to imitate them without the droplets having to fall, as once one hears something enough times, any…
Keep readingflower arranging
a poem by Benista Owusu-Amo, ’21 Everyday I walk past the playground Children laugh Shove Smile I see a boy with curly hair He smiles at me from behind the fence His teeth are as white as the bright clouds in the sky His eyes are dark, but inviting He clenches a green lollipop in his right hand We share a moment of silence His friend’s loud voice calls to him Breaking the peace with his loud hammer-like voice The boy jerks out of his stupor He looks at me one last time The very last time I knew all…
Keep readingslipping away
a poem written by Gemma Chatham, ’21 They are We, We are They, I’m not sure which I am, I’m slipping away. They who are We stand to the side, While the We who are They Stand in circles, talk in line. They who are We do not speak, Not because we can’t, But because it’s hard, near We who are They. A group of three is the place for We, Unwelcome anywhere else, Nowhere where We can comfortably be. Drawing circles alone, They all look the same, But the ones that don’t can never, ever be shown. They who…
Keep readingthe book on the shelf
a poem by Luke Quinn, ’21 As a child, one can look at his or her self And say, I want to be a firefighter Because of that book on that shelf. As a child, one can look at somebody else And say, I want to be like him, Because of that book on that shelf. As we grow older, so do our thoughts. We start thinking of who we can be, and who we can not. We begin to develop an idea, One that comes with great fear. “What if she doesn’t like my clothes?” “What if he doesn’t…
Keep readingsometimes
poem by Anonymous Sometimes I get dizzy from the constant spin of the earth if only it could stop for a moment to catch my breath settle my stomach relieve a constant headache Sometimes I get sea sick from the ebb and flow of the tides the crash and subside of the waves Sometimes it grows tedious the dance of the sun and moon the warmth of day chill of night Sometimes it seems as if everything is so balanced that nothing has color.
Keep readingthere is a darkness
poem by Anonymous There is a darkness piercing and choking. Last night my body contorted, twisted toward the ceiling. broken limbs and hidden hands. and the line between nightmare and reality took the form of chalk dusted into it’s surroundings; and a pinch to the skin felt dull and cold on my cracked skin.
Keep readinghands of absalom
poem by Anonymous His hands fumble, Struggle; Wrapped in thick mittens of self doubt. Shaken to the core. The egg cracks in his grasp The pencil tip will not remain straight. It’s two weeks later, And his mind may forget – From time to time – But his body Will always remember How she left him in that room: Weak. Naked. And impotent.
Keep readingjealousy: a monster within
poem by Rebecca Eneyni, ’18 My fingernails bore trenches into my clasped hands, A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face, Dodging the vein that ticked on my temple, My glazed eyes hid the fire that lurked beneath, No one…ought to know. My eyes darted about the enclosed space, Looking, searching for relief, Thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of confusion, The clocks ticking slowed to a crawl, Tick…tock. My stomach surged with anger, turning in and out, In and out, My chest was constricted, I gasped for air, Breathe in…and out. My heart ached from disappointment, The…
Keep readingtwo days
photo & poem by Maia Foley, ’19 It had been two days. She gave him a string Of wound black and blue, Twisted and tied as the knots In his stomach when he finally asked. It had been two months. She had finally met his family And he had met hers. They were going to the dance as a pair And made plans far beyond Their high school years together. And the string grew stronger, Made resilient by the wear And weathering that it faced. It had been two years. The salted dew upon the grass blades That covered her…
Keep readingbeautiful, but ugly
poem by Anonymous Being born ugly isn’t always bad. Being born ugly can save you from being bought and sold like furniture. But later you grow pretty. All doll-like with those delicate eyelashes and silky smooth hair. Looking so fragile that you might just break with a single snap of the fingers. You try to look pretty to cover up your ugly past. Still, no matter how hard you try, you grow older. Looking all ugly again. Your face like a raisin all shriveled up and wrinkly. You get thrown aside like a worn down chair full of rips, showing…
Keep readingchrysanthemums in snow
poem by Ramya Yandava ’17 Everyone thought they’d die by the time December rolled around, when the chill hit and Mrs. B removed her wind chimes and the birds all flew South We knew they were precocious, wiser than their years and ahead of their time, and we were glad for them But still – Everyone thought it was a miracle to see their bright pink heads poking out in open rebellion
Keep readingyou aren’t just beautiful
poem by Anonymous My heart has never felt love I listen to sad songs And all I can feel is dryness I don’t wanna be told I am pretty Beautiful I want to be told I might have a heart of gold I long to kiss in a field And lose myself And share myself with you I want us to live our own secret To battle the ends of time Together in our own solitude You aren’t just beautiful Your soul sings louder than the rain on my Window pain.
Keep readingbasement (with the clock ticking)
poem by Lexi Todorov, ’17 You reach to your pocket In response to an ersatz buzz, Spend it like time does, constant and with certainty. Hurry. Your time in the basement must be worth it, A watch full of ladders— Tears in your eyes, dear? They don’t matter. The water’s getting higher now— Shall you choose to swim or must you drown? Don’t take a lie, don’t take a life, Just hold yours close. Favorite colors fade to bruises, shades of the earth In peripheral vision, you’re on a mission; Do you realize your worth? The wind, the trees, they’re…
Keep readinga haunted melody
poem by Rubina Daneschvar, ’17 A man’s fingers caress the keys of a piano by the window A crowd gathers, hypnotized by the man His fingers move up and down the instrument In his mind an orchestra appears and plays him a lullaby Outside the night is fading as the first glimpses of sun appear Carriages are heard outside but the horses are entranced by the music The music builds and his hands are firm but light The spectators resemble sculptures that are enchanted with the notes The women’s faces are pale and lifeless A cello starts in the man’s…
Keep readingseen: 11:46PM
poem by Gabby Clifford, ’16 Come see me Because so easily I let myself Be seen by those around me And hardly seen By those who secretly lie beside me The crisp air and my nonchalant face Hide my despair as I try to grasp the chair I clumsily sit on and turn my head to the screen And what I mean, this time, is to be seen The earth shattering nothingness Of the crush sitting beside you in class Screeching his chair closer to you He laughs at your awkward jokes But will never know How hard you want…
Keep reading
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