University of Massachusetts Dartmouth Department of English
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Chucking Oranges Erin Sheehan
Leveler. anna gallo
Under the ocean I sit Cross legged My arms in front Dreaming The taste of the clouds As they sing, mouths open I bite my nails
We need a leveler. So much joy is found in suffering. We put ourselves above others, finding something in the great illusionary divide between the high and low, the upper rim and the dust. We throw insults like confetti at the sorest of parties, finding pleasure in the pain of others, while we rise in the imaginary pedestal of our minds. But there is no pedestal. We are all, We We are, Two hands & one heart, Bent souls & false starts, Sore eyes & shaking spines, Stained scars & worn lines. We are the sunlit silver lining, the broken glass kaleidoscope, still shining. Sidewalk dreams on a rainy day, the last word in a world with nothing left to say. Come down off your pedestal, please we’ve gone too far. We need a leveler We are.
I bite my nails The coral reefs, they are all snails The ocean waves are overwhelmed They crash like titanium I bare no fails I bare no fails The giant whale He nips my lap and down He flails Down he flails Down he flails I wonder why the ocean Is full of nails
Nikki Vijaybhaskar
Down I wail, Down I wail, Chucking oranges, I realize I failed
ghost of you anna gallo I’ve been dancing in these empty rooms with the ghost of you, singing a song that we both knew. But my voice comes crashing back from these bare walls, a hollow tune I don’t know at all.
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answers Cambridge, MA, 6:00 AM He walked towards his station, striding past the unlit worktables and humming computer terminals. He stopped to gaze at the esplanade. The sight was an eyeful. From his high perch in MIT’s chemistry lab, his asylum, the morning walkers looked like tiny emmets. He stooped slightly and rested his forehead on the cool glass of the window. His tired mind wanted to stop, just for a moment, evade the pull of his work bench and be a daydreamer. Dream he did, but his mind kept flicking back and forth. Into the future, and back to theat fateful day when he made a breakthrough. He looked over at his table. It sat there, in the petri dish. Lackluster , dull, with a matte texture. It reminded him of the only picture of Ma he had; old, dusty, dull and fading in a shoebox, somewhere in the attic. He reflected on the aha moment he’d had a couple weeks ago. The test tube had stayed clear as day as the last drop of lye left the pipette. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he’d made it all up in his mind, the slim tube turned jet black. HisHe felt the tremors in his hands trembled as the substance quickly went from a sap green to a sodden brown and then settled as a tin coating right up to the rim. He raced out to find Prof. Leighton and finally located him in the cargo room, trying on one of those new safety goggles. The professor was all keyed up as they walked back to the lab. It was a balmy afternoon. He spied a bunch of students sprawled out under a tarp in the Danny Lewin Square. One of them was running after a dog that was apparently making threats to pee in the park. It reminded him of a vacation he spent in
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Rio, with Ma and their dog Rhino. They stopped at his bench, and the professor peered into the tube. The slender container’s wallsinsides had faded to a dull, mushy substance. He jerked away from the window as he came out of the reverie. He loped to his desk and took in the items strewn across the surface. He plopped into his seat, and looked around the deserted lab. A chart of the Morse code was tacked up to a wall. Someone had brought in a mannequin, clothes held up with cotter pins. There was a picture of the Capitol building. A cut out of a needy-looking cat was taped to the frame. Jane was tatting doilies again.
For the longest time, I thought Michael Jackson was Indian. Then I learned that there were other countries. I learned that I could go there; go anywhere. So I went.
It suddenly occurred to him what a motley crew they were. They were at the bottom of the Chemistry school’s suborder. Maybe this thing in front of him could catapult them to prominence. As the ire at his own ineptitude began to fade, the familiar, dry, ache reentered his heart. The only question he really wanted answered—would Ma be proud of him? He would never know.
Life nikki vijaybhaskar Life is a tree, With leaves of old memories; They may not be green But will never go unseen. Some may charm, With mirth and warmth, While others carry gloom From the days of doom. A baby shower, a beautiful flower, The smiles you saw and the miles you went A laugh with your loved ones And endeavors unsung They will all stay with you Till the moment, when The heart and the root will say, “I’ve had enough! I’ll hang up my shoes!”
Nikki Vijaybhaskar 8
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