2018 LFCDS Literary Magazine The Oak: Stay Gold

The Oak Stay Gold

Lake Forest Country Day School 145 South Green Bay Road Lake Forest, Illinois 60045

For Bob Whelan: Stay Gold!

Kim Bell Introduction Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

--Robert Frost Robert Frost’s poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” is about many things: the inevitable change of the seasons, growing up, and the temporal nature of our own existence. The poem suggests that no matter what we do, change is the only constant, and “nothing gold can stay.” Perhaps the only thing to do is to seek out meaning in those changes we experience. Perhaps the only thing to do is to write and make art.

Between the covers of this 2018 issue of The Oak: Stay Gold, you will see how LFCDS upper school students drew meaning out of what, in their lives, is gold.

In reading it, you will not only experience gold, but all of the colors of our world. The contributors paint for us an emotionally rich and vibrant rainbow through their words and pictures. These poems, stories, photographs, and paintings capture the shiny brilliance of childhood as well as the deeper, more complex colors of adolescence.

Frost’s poem illuminates the temporary nature of youth; however, what his poem fails to acknowledge is that there are ways to make gold stay. We stay gold when we write, paint, draw, photograph, and create. In S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, one character transforms the meaning of this poem when, with his dying words, he emplores his best friend, Ponyboy, the narrator of the story, to “stay gold.” And Ponyboy does: he picks up a pen and, in a kind of narrative magic, begins to write down the events that become the novel the reader is already holding.

You now hold in your hands that same kind of magic. In the following pages, these LFCDS writers and artists are gold.

They shine.

Contents Cover Art Introduction Student Molly Kelly Zach Kaplan Finn Ihlanfeldt Abby Trejo Redding Worth Darina Sokolova Reid Primo Evalyn Lee Hanna Cobin Sara Kaplan Ricky Ascroft Jessie Pasma Sabrina Borstein Finn Harrison Olivia Barnes Justinian Alexos Namita Aluvila Pittman Alley Alister MacLean Kevin Taylor Jessie Pasma Eleanor Larsen Olivia Gordon Daniel Crawford Mary Lee Olivia Barnes Jessie Pasma Myles Haigh Kate Satter Ava Trandel Sophia Maggos Levi Golson Kaylie Jaster George Wilkins Asher Bremen Evan Arthurs Lindsay Stone Teddy Berghammer Samantha Rogers Anton Walvoord Redding Worth Sam Hempen Myles Haight Bram Doppenberg Tony Grushevsky Brooke Mordini Posy Connery

Hanna Cobin Kim Bell Title Page No. Artwork 1 How Old Are You? 3 Simple Stones 4 Artwork 4 Maybe I’m A… 5 Artwork 6 9-Word Poem 6 Re(a)d 7 Seat of Fire 8 9-Word Poem 9 Artwork 9 Fireworks 10 Globe 11 Artwork 12 Found Poem: Listening to Men and Animals…

13 Neon Green 14 The Shift 15 The Darkness 16 Just Make Contact 17 Artwork 18 Royal Blue Shoes 19 Untitled 20 Ocean of Words 21 Blue 22 Artwork 23 Seasons of Blue 24 Swimming Against the Current 25 Artwork 26 Under 26 Forgotten 27 Artwork 28 Untitled 29 9-Word Poem 30 Artwork 30 Words 31 My Addiction 32 Click 33 The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend 34 Mystery Poem 35 Artwork 36 Three Poems About Bird Street 37 What Am I? 40 Artwork 40 Snow 41 Artwork 41 Found Poem: The Giver 42 Found Poem: The Sled 43

Student Sydney Bronstein Malorie Mursau Claire Kaplan Hayden Shortsle Jonas Kobza Leo Anderson Redding Worth Fallon Anderson Grayson Salata Nate Wehner Carla Accogli Emily Nocella Michael Springer John Nikitas Stewart Growdon Myles Haight Namita Aluvila Hayden Shortsle Advika Rangan Evan Varones Caroline Keil Carla Accogli Caroline Holland Emily Nocella Carys Kelly Rosie Meyer Julia Nathanson Sophia Maggos Kate Danaher Samantha Rogers Mary Lee Justinian Alexos Finn Harrison Hanna Cobin Genevieve Farrell Izzy Smith Katherine Terlato Emma Berti Eduardo Pontes Ben Arthurs Noa Paige Bremen Kevin Taylor Arianna Griffiths Libby Blodgett Felicity Whidden Olivia Barnes Eli Zuerlein Anna Ferdkoff Namita Aluvila Libby Blodgett Ashton Peterson

Title I Am Off! Click Click Evergreen is Not a Color Artwork The Void Artwork Holocaust Poem Artwork Shoes by the Door 9-Word Poem Artwork Songs That Get You Through, Somehow 9-Word Poem Artwork My Grandpa’s Pool Rapids Artwork One Moment Untitled Water Wonder Artwork Michelangelo Artwork Artwork Don’t Know The Worst Annoyance The Pencil Red 255 Wentworth Street Artwork Stress is a Fire Anger Magenta Artwork How to Win a Fight with Your Sibling Red is a Bull Artwork 9-Word Poem Sweet Treat Blue In Front of Your Face Melancholy Where Were You? Artwork Pink Artwork 9-Word Poem Artwork The Crystal Dancer Blossom Artwork

Page No. 44 45 46 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 52 53 54 54 55 56 56 57 58 59 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 70 70 71 72 72 73 74 75 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 83 84 84 85 86

Student Grace Satter Ben Whelan Rodrigo Pontes Rodrigo Pontes Fallon Anderson Ben Arthurs Lilly Stewart Chase Pappas Avery Fleisch Abby Trejo John Nikitas Matthew Hahn Lucy Partington Sy Rosenblatt Sean Garrick Emily Nocella Michael Bousis Hana Uddin Hana Uddin Anna Satter Kevin Taylor Paige Roby Libby Blodgett Lindsay Stone Anton Walvoord Kelly Wyne Lauren Berish Sy Rosenblatt Nicholas Lubaev Ben Arthurs Anton Walvoord Dennis Troha Sydney Frusher Anna Satter Naomi Fleisch Henry Roloson Matthew Hahn Gavin Roby Bia Leffingwell Maxwell Mullarkey Felicity Whidden Brooke Mordini Evalyn Lee Lindsay Stone Joshua Back Evalyn Lee Izzy Smith Sydnie Blumenau Charlie Walsh Acknowledgements Editors

Title Untitled Pizza McDonalds or Taco Bell?

Pizza in 9 Words Zigzag Stitch Artwork Gone in a Flash Salto Artwork Stuffed Bear A Final Wave Artwork 9-Word Poem The Showers Artwork Where I Live Popcorn Artwork This Poem Doesn’t Need a Colorful Title Artwork A Poem Inspired by The Giver Mistakes White Artwork Gr( )y What’s Stalking Lime Green Artwork Maroon Found Poem: Watch The Rattle Artwork Anxiety Our Broken World Artwork The Devil Mosquitos Artwork A Wall for All How People Should Live Maybe I’m A… All the Way Artwork Artwork Arthur’s Note Listening Yellow Is… Stay Gold Untitled

Page No. 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 94 95 96 98 98 99 100 100 101 101 102 103 104 105 108 109 110 111 112 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 128 129 130 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138

Molly Kelly

1

2

Zach Kaplan How Old Are You? I am as old as an oak tree Casting a shadow over the grassy field where I rest Wooden bones swaying in the wind I am as old as a dinosaur fossil Buried in a rocky time capsule A testament to an old world where monsters roamed the earth I am as old as this planet we call home Forming in the dead vacuum of space Creating a beacon for life I am as old as the big bang Erupting Spraying out galaxies Planets Stars Laying the foundation for you I am as old you Another kid Facing the same problems Enjoying the same stuff Ready to inherit the planet Just like you.

3

Finn Ihlanfeldt Simple Stones A rock of strange value You are to sooth me when I lean Water splashing plainly something beautiful is born within You take away the past events of shame.

You have been lifted From rock bottom to feather high You were taken by an ocean of freshwater It has washed you to calmness Stripping you of your sharp corners & cutting edges You became a special little something You could have been claimed to be garbage Sometimes the simplest things can be gems All I need sometimes are the simple things Yet I still feel as though it isn’t enough.

Why do you, something so simple, deserve such praise Every little pebble or rock part of something bigger Sure, diamonds and sapphires are worth more than a simple stone But a simple stone is worth the same as any of us We are Simple Stones

Abby Trejo

4

Redding Worth Maybe I’m A… Maybe I’m a marble rolling down the stairs of a tall building, as I roll each story reveals. A little girl closing an envelope, an old woman, looking at a picture, a boy shooting hoops off his bedroom door.

I roll across the door of the little girl’s home. The letter is not to her pen pal, but her father away at war. She licks it with her tongue, kisses it. She doesn’t think about the worst but, deep down she's knows it’s coming. Her mother, cleaning the dishes, turns up the faucet to muffle her soft crying.

I crack and break, as I fall once more. I roll to the soft carpet of an old woman. She weeps as she clutches the photo of her husband in her thin freckled hands. She lightly places the photo on her old dresser. She closes her eyes and recalls the last memory of her husband. She walks into the small room and he asks “What’s your name?” She rocks in her chair, closes her eyes and drifts away.

A basketball bounces. A boy in his lucky socks, shooting over and over again. He occasionally looks at his phone, ignoring his mom telling him he should come set the table. He shoots and as the ball leaves his fingertips, bing. “We made the team, bro!” his friend writes him. He makes a basket and runs to the kitchen to help his mom set the table.

Maybe I’m a marble. I roll, and I bounce. My fragile being does not shatter. I am the glass eye some people do not notice but, I am here.

5

Darina Sokolova

Reid Primo 9-Word Poem Lurking Shadows Wave hello Nobody Watches them But me

6

Evalyn Lee Re(a)d A thick liquid Pouring out screams DANGER DANGER DANGER Sending panic through your veins The hexagonal shape In front of your windshield All caps: STOP Knowing you can’t stop Or you’ll be late The eye watering, throat burning, nose sweating Taste that makes you run for water, A taste that can make your lips curl upwards in a sweet smile The shape on a card Making your face feel hot Feeling your own heart beating for someone Cheeks flushed A black and white page Letters put together forming words Words binding into sentences Stories bleeding

A signal of pain, Sign of law, a taste of sweet and spicy, a human connection, The color that must be read To be seen.

7

Hanna Cobin Seat of Fire I am sitting in a seat made of fire I look up at the judgmental faces of the audience My gaze is drawn towards the ground "You can start now" I try to find my voice in the back of my throat Instead, I find my vocal chords hiding at the bottom of my stomach I force my words out into the cold room I look down at a paper so my brain can remind my mouth to use actual words instead Of gibberish But when I look down I only get lost in a sea of words I try to focus on one word at a time But thewordsareallmixedintoonepile I am trying to words in mind unscramble the my I stop I look up I hope to see forgiving faces but instead the judgmental faces remain There are even some faces with lips curled into evil smiles "It's okay, just breathe and start again" I breathe In Out I can hear my heart beating Boom boom Boom boom I speed through each sentence I don't think about what I am saying When I am done I look up and see smiling faces But the smiles aren't evil The kind smiles are accompanied by an applause 8

Sara Kaplan 9-Word Poem Rainbow of energy An arrow high We’re forever entwined

Ricky Ascroft

9

Jessie Pasma Fireworks As I walk down the beach stairs, I hear booms in the distance.

Once we are at the bottom, my cousins and I run across the sandy dune. The cool sand flying behind us. As soon as we reach the bottom, we start digging a pit and gathering wood. My mom comes down with the s’more supplies. When we finally set the wood ablaze. we pull 11 plastic beach chairs over. Last year we pulled 12. Each of us sits in one. We wait until the sky turns dark and the lake turns black, till the only source of light is the moon.

My cousins grab the fireworks. Setting a spark on each rope one at a time. All of our heads are turned to the sky and our faces are glowing from the colors. Last year he was among us, face glowing, laughing. All of us, turning the sticks which hold at the end, a perfectly golden marshmallow. We sit and cheer and laugh.

Finally, the sky is filled with smoke and it is time for the finale.

My cousins hold the lighter to the rope then dash away. Colors fill the sky. Each firework a different color, a different size, a different shape. The lake lights up as different colored dots dance in the reflection. I remember his laughing eyes, the smile that never left his face, the endless jokes, and that laugh that made all of us giggle. The colors die down as the fireworks end; the fire has eaten away at the wood for such a long time that only the orange embers are left to rest, and there is a chill in the air that begs us to go into the warmth of the small cottage on top of the towering dune. We carry the blankets and the empty s’mores tray up the stairs, smiles on our faces. Inside the cozy cottage we say our goodbyes and exchange hugs. Each car driving away with the honk of a horn. I wait until I hear booms in the distance as I walk down the beach stairs when the lake is dark, and the moon is the only source of light.

10

Sabrina Borstein Globe A knob stuck in place wanting to turn Numbers from black to gold Slowly fade to the next color Glued to a golden stroke High to low Numbers meet in the middle Scratches between Fixed to this compacted platform But still allied with time It holds the world's history: A mother holds her baby tightly A man sprints after his cattle Fireworks explode and light up a young girl’s face A boy wanders slowly about, Moving around the world Slowly moving my hand around the world 7-195-50 Places fill my mind Attached with paper mache Color drains Blues like: Cobalt, navy, sapphire Yellows and greys fill the round piece Places fill my mind With excitement it dances Slowing to a stop.

11

Finn Harrison

12

Olivia Barnes Found Poem: Listening to Men and Animals Die Listening to men and animals die Extending his arm slowly across the blood-soaked earth His lower jaw dropping With the cries of wounded men The cries of thirsty men “Water� was the only thing to save them He looked to his right Then his left and saw Everyone was struggling He had learned what warfare meant

13

Justinian Alexos Neon Green The smell of sour apples picked from a tree The taste of gatorade With the feeling of bubble gum Minecraft slime oozes through its veins radioactive With attractive, with addictive With rubber hitting the floor You can never get annoyed by A color that wrapped around us Gets in your mouth Your mind And your fist A color you release Pulled by green gravity Found at the center of the universe

14

Namita Aluvila The Shift A blank screen A red light Flashing in the corner Muffled sound Childish laughter Joyus yelling Running footsteps Doorbells ringing A chorus of “Trick or treat!�

All dead The shutter opens Feeble light illuminates the scene Blurriness dissipates As snow flits across the shot Candy wrappers and Glo-sticks litter the street Decorations sway in the cold air As dim sunlight brightens the gray November sky

15

Pittman Alley The Darkness Good Morning It’s me, The darkness.

This is your final stop Already You want to rant, To break away From all the pain The madness Is finally spewing out The Liquid All blue Not red Coming out of you My blood Shall make You chill Eventually Drown And you’ll be frowning, All riled up We’ll ditch you You can’t catch me You’re as slow as a tree That isn’t free The roots all over Ground, ruling And you stayed in place You were guarded by bees Living up in a hollow tree The deer smearing you Into a death state Doesn't that hurt?

You’re dirt Name’s Roy? The tiny little boy From the town Long, long ago Now crumpled

What a poor little being Eating His last meal Regretting And ending Going away too fastWe wouldn’t want that, Would we?

I want you to free me Or else Bye bye I will destroy you Unless you Decide to Join Nothing.

16

Alister MacLean Just Make Contact My coach said you can do it, just make contact The ground feels soft under my feet You can do it, just make contact I can’t hear the crowd anymore You can do it, just make contact It’s just me and the pitcher staring eye to eye You can do it, just make contact He winds up and delivers I swing You can do it, just make contact And I feel and hear the crack You can do it, just make contact And suddenly I can hear the crowd again And you watch your hit It’s going going gone As I round the bases I see my family in the crowd Clapping and cheering and smiling As I cross home plate

17

Kevin Taylor

18

Jessie Pasma Royal Blue Shoes I sit down on the bench next to the court. I take off my old, rundown black and white Nikes and put on my royal blue new, fresh volleyball shoes. The grip sticks to the floor as I run, dive and jump. The sole is soft and comfortable.

It is my first time playing for a real team. My first time wearing a navy and orange jersey. My first time wearing royal blue volleyball shoes.

I scream mine, as the ball flies at my face. It hits me in the chest, I stumble, but I do not fall. I look down at my royal blue shoes, that stand out in the yellow lights of gym. I glimpse their glow, against the shiny wood floor.

Time for sweet 16. I lunge back and forth between the crisp, white lines. I start to feel dizzy. The world is spinning. I hear voices, laughing having fun without me. Blackout.

19

Eleanor Larsen Untitled So Many People Depending on your ability to save a goal To stop someone from scoring To Deny Their goal She comes on a breakaway up the field Determined to score On a mission where failure Is not an option

On the stroke mark She winds up to shoot Her chipped stick tells of hours of practice The follow through with a mouth guard smile on her face Knowing that all that practice was good for something Thoughts racing through my head As I dive, knowing already that I had failed my team

20

Olivia Gordon Ocean of Words Falling farther and farther down Into the ocean of words I’m sprinting down the grassy mountain I spring into the brown murky water Quickly slosh through it Jump out Sprint for 3 miles Push through the pounding waterfall And into the tiny cave covered in carvings I find The Monster Blood red stained fangs Taunt my tiny figure His monstrously hairy body Practically sucks me inside his trap As I unleash my power I think about this task I think about saving all of civilization Then I strike This is after a satyr protected me in my school And told me what I am Bringing me to a camp Far, far away In safety and love For training I learn I compete I save I help And as I save the world I escape the monster Escape the ocean Currents tugging me slowly Until I am drowning Again.

21

Daniel Crawford Blue Blue is the glassy clear royal blue ocean A city of coral and fish It tastes like rich sea salt caramel It feels like gentle waves,

Caked with bubbling foam and seaweed Rolling and breaking on your feet Before you jump into the ocean Escaping dreadful sunburns The waves sparkle in the midday sun Suspended in the cloud-dusted pale blue sky A perfect blue day

22

Mary Lee

23

Olivia Barnes Seasons of Blue Blue sounds like ocean waves The salt spray in the mouths of kids Sitting in the hot sun along the shore Blue tastes like a melted jolly rancher As a faint smell of vanilla and coconut lingers Like a tropical night in Hawaii It feels fuzzy and warm Like a blanket on a winter day Wrapped around me as I curl Into my soft overstuffed chair in the corner of my blue room

24

Jessie Pasma Swimming Against the Current Step 1: Sink your feet into the wet sand. Ease your way into the waves that lap at your ankles, then your knees, then your waist.

I watch the waves touch the shore then slowly glide away. I watch the seagulls as they fly above my head. I walk into the water. The waves pull me, shove me.

Step 2: Sit in the water and get used to the temperature.

I kneel down, letting the warm water cover my shoulders. I raise my face to the sun. I close my eyes and listen. I listen to the waves, the birds, the soft breeze, children laughing in the distance.

Step 3: Take a breath and dip under the surface of the water.

I look out to the horizon. I see boats floating in the depths of the ocean.

I take a breath and dip my face under the salty water. And let the image of soft blue of the ocean leak into my mind.

Step 4: Slowly kick your feet and move your arms as if you are pushing the water behind you.

I lift my feet off of the wet stand and start to slowly make my way through the water. Kick, push, kick, push until I have run out of breath and must take a sip of air.

Step 5: Make sure that you are breathing. When you tire, plant your feet into the wet sand. Stand up, your head breaking the surface of the water and take a breath.

I place my feet upon the moist sand. I stand up. Using my arms to keep me up straight. I breathe in.

Step 5: Continue with the gradual kicking and pushing.

I breathe in again, feeling panic. The waves are starting to pull me. I try to lift my feet off of the ground but I feel so heavy. I kick and push. I try to yell, but the water floods my lungs. The soft blue fills my mind. I try to grasp for air, and I hope that I will get to feel the sun’s glow on my face.

Step 6: If you aren’t a strong swimmer don’t go over your head without an adult.

Suddenly…

Step 7: Make sure that there is a lifeguard close by if you are going out far.

Strong arms wrap around me. They pull me up, support me. My face raises above the surface of the deep blue water. I look to see who saved me, who helped me take another breath. A face of a strong boy looked down at me and smiled.

25

Myles Haight

Kate Satter Under Under the wave My feet can’t reach the bottom It’s dark Like when you close your eyes But than bright like day And than Repeat

26

Ava Trandel Forgotten A sudden hush Feeling dizzy Can’t focus Not at the ceremony.

No.

Heart Jumped.

She

Me.

W

I

L

D

T

Skipped

O

H

U

Call my name What did I do wrong.

27

G

H

T

S

Sophia Maggos

28

Levi Golson Untitled They called number 88.

I was next. I was last.

He skates on the ice, My heart pumps, I jump up and down, And then, “Number 91, Levi Golson!�

I embrace it.

The lights fades, And the spotlight is on me.

29

Kaylie Jaster 9-Word Poem An outsider Invisible Waiting For my time to shine

George Wilkins

30

Asher Bremen Words They fly Soaring around, entering a they

place only you have access to

dissipate

slowly Then, reappearing, Create an image, emotion and description, Spread with color Just as the picture is completed More dissipate Creating another picture Sometimes I have seen the pictures before, The cat with orange fur leaving for the forest, Creating a new destiny for himself, Sometimes the pictures are new, A lion and baboon, side by side, friends Looking at the forest floor through the treetops, They dissipate Reforming Creating pictures, friendships They are Words, stories, books stretchers of our imaginations

31

Evan Arthurs My Addiction A game played by electronically manipulating images produced by a computer program on a television screen or other display screen For me it’s more like, An extremely addictive high quality graphics well running controllable movie Or E.A.H.Q.G.W.R.C.M. My hands get sweaty as the controller almost slips out Parents are all like “Video Games will make your eyes fall out” I want proof I’ve been playing for like 2-3 years now I’m waiting They give me better reaction time Better hand-eye coordination HA So far neither my brain or eyes have fallen out When are parents going to stop lying “You didn’t brush your teeth, your teeth are going to fall out” You know what I’m done with parents’ lies The rebellion has begun!

32

Lindsay Stone Click Click click

I close my eyes

Boom

Trying to jump

Lights flash over Blinding me Trying to find me Too many I count 1...2...3...4...5… I get dizzy They are coming

Out of My NIGHTMARE Click click BOOM!!

I hear

And see

The lights flash One more time Before I duck into a dark alleyway

33

Teddy Berghammer THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY IS MY FRIEND I stare at him he stares at me I can feel the silence slowly Killing me

piece by piece I look away So does he and just Like that it’s over, done, finished

34

Samantha Rogers Mystery Poem Darkness.

A sliver of light, wider and wider.

Then Light, illuminates the memories.

Old, dusty memories, long forgotten, are locked away in the dark.

Waiting to be found.

Memories, locked away for so long.

That you no longer remember, the mementos from your other life, Boxes stacked upon boxes upon boxes…

Then to turn a corner and find yourself.

Yourself, staring back at you.

For a heartbeat, in a small flicker of light, You see the past, from other lives.

And the future, from the ones awaiting.

For a heartbeat, you look at yourself and don’t even recognize it’s you.

Then you find yourself reaching.

Stepping.

And you pull yourself aside.

And you see, yourself, again.

35

But from behind the reflections.

And the opportunities, they call out to you.

And you step, and walk, and run, and fly.

Into the darkness of the unknown.

The darkness is suffocating.

Yet, comforting.

It welcomes you, Into its’ shadowy arms.

Still at home.

But it’s another world to your eyes.

Where the definition of reality is bent and twisted.

And the meaning of logic is chaos.

Where the fish will fly, and the birds will swim.

And you can see the future in the past, and the present in the future.

But it’s home.

Anton Walvoord

36

Redding Worth Three Poems About Bird Street Welcome to Bird Street White linen suits Melt into their cuffs Over oiled patten shoes Asperus cobblestones Pristine cages swing above Porcelain feeders The old men all meet up Like the moon Birds chirp Huddled together Clouds sway in the wind Words bounce from wing To wing Skyscrapers with secrets The birds leave Birds with dreams Cages swing and wind rages Crumbs are cleaned The clop of loafers The sound of voices Hinges chirp The Master arrives Wings flap Backs are clapped Pitter patter Becomes faint Sun sets Bird St. Sings 37

Redding Worth Bird St. Sun rises against the green of mountains Greets the warm earth The green leaves emerge from the cobblestones Oiled patten shoes brush the rough surface Tweets of content birds fill the crisp air Gold cages shine In perfect symphony Our porcelain feeders fit for kings Men invite their friends To wander the streets To meet new friends and fill their feeding spoons When the masters leave The birds chirp Scrumptious crumbs Fresh rain water Between The asperous cracks Masters walk back to their birds Exchange goodbyes Ready for another day To sing with the birds To walk the trails Experience the city Moon walks across the sky Sun hides under the tall skyscrapers Stars blanket the vast blue Lights flicker in the silent street Hush 38

Redding Worth Bird St. The golden cages Built with strong hands Metal fingers Warm gloss coats Hanging on the hook Of love and slender care Swinging in the wind Of your master walking With their friends Magical melodies fill The air with wisdom Crumbs and precipitation Peck with soft strong beaks The birds fly with the clouds Together in symphony Soaring wonder on their tails Curious spectacles on their nose The world outside Their cages Vibrant and vast The homes warm And nurtured Safe and quiet Masters return reclaim Their treasures Water rushes by Bird street sings

39

Sam Hempen What Am I? Like a stray dog wandering, A light drifting in the dark, Shining in a beautiful blue glare, Floating In the glass cylinder Trapped forever

Myles Haight

40

Bram Doppenberg Snow snow is pounding down on me like pouring rain then suddenly i am heading face first into the cold snow it rushes under my coat and hat i shiver i feel like i am going to turn into the icicle hanging down from my house

Tony Grushevsky

41

Brooke Mordini Found Poem: The Giver It was colder The snow beneath the sled Was hard, coated with bluish ice The runners Couldn't slice through The frozen expanse They skittered sideways, And gathered speed Speed took control From his hands No longer enjoying the feeling Of freedom The sled hit He was jarred loose, thrown Violently in the air his leg twisted Under him The crack of bone The first wave of pain Slicing through each nerve With a hot blade As if a hatchet lay Lodged in his leg

He perceived the word fire Felt flames licking the torn bone The pain grew He screamed He cried No answer The sound disappeared Into the empty landscape And into the wind

42

Posy Connery Found Poem: The Sled Cold air swirling Featherlike feelings Dots of cold upon his tongue Now he held rough, damp rope Could see through closed eyes Bright, whirlings torrent of crystals Like cold fur Thick with furry snow Poised at top of a long, extended mound The sled rose from the very lan Face cutting through frigid air

Sped downward Free to enjoy Breathless glee Overwhelmed him Motion slowed Feeling the balance Of excitement and peace Open ordinary eyes Still on the bed Not moved at all Do it again

43

Sydney Bronstein I Am Off! I stood at the top of the mountain.

There was a pit in my stomach Looked down at the pure, white snow.

I wipe the fog off my goggles.

I slowly lift my poles slightly off the ground.

I give the snow a little push..

I am off!

I zoom down the mountain, The wind is blowing on my face.

The wintry coldness stings my face.

Everything flies past me.

I skip around some cones Swirl from side to side Wink at another skier Having so much fun!

Soon I see the end.

Turn to stop.

Then, I wait My brother and my dad come down behind me.

I tell them to follow me I Stand in line for the chair lift.

Move forward until we're in front of a chair.

We hear a man go “3,2,1 Sit.” The chairlift moves upwards.

I watch as the skiers pass by down below.

Soon we come close to the end.

I slip off the chair.

I stand there.

On top of the mountain.

So excited that I couldn’t contain myself.

I push with my poles and before I know it…

I am off!

44

Malorie Mursau Click Click Two clicks on each foot I go up up and up to the top I start off slow Then I go zooming down down and down Racing down blinding white until I have to stop And repeat Two clicks on each foot I go up up and up to the top I start off slow Then I go zooming down down and down Racing down powder bumps until I have to stop

And repeat Two clicks on each foot I go up up and up I start off slow Then I go zooming down down and down Racing down icy patches until I have to stop

45

Claire Kaplan Evergreen is Not a Color Rain Dripping From leaves A laugh In the midst of tears A morning Covered in dew The cool air So fresh you can taste it Pine needles On a white canvas Of snow

Hayden Shortsle

46

Jonas Kobza The Void Frightened on a moonless night.

The bitter taste of black in your mouth The dark side of the brain.

The smell of tar stings your lungs.

The ringing in your ears that doesn’t stop.

The cold touch of ice on your skin.

The void in evil’s heart. between friends torn apart. inside the hater’s eyes.

The blackness within us where our thoughts go to die.

Black is all All is black.

47

Leo Anderson

48

Redding Worth Holocaust Poem Our eyes watered as we glanced upon the weak humans. Not humans Anymore. Our full Stomachs ached with hunger and longed for blankness. We walked along the dirty Narrow roads. Bodies scattered thin and wet. Blank faces glanced upon us without thought.

Young children looking for their mothers and their mothers looking for them.

Men once strong and important now helpless and poor.

So much agony masked in a blanket of darkness.

A child cries “I’m hungry.” A woman glances upon the once blue sky as she takes a rock to her head.

49

Fallon Anderson

50

Grayson Salata Shoes by the Door At the doorway My dad’s work boots Going in and out Of the house Until one day They just stood still Those boots They never moved But the fact of them gave me A constant reminder Of what happened He went to work, then back Work and then home again Every day but that one day That one day My father died

He worked construction He was the ground worker He would work on getting the ground flat And getting the base layer in Those boots got caked with more mud And more mud Those shoes would disappear and come back Disappear and reappear Until they stopped leaving and just Waited for him For my dad To come back They waited And waited Until they couldn’t wait any more Until those boots were thrown Into the back of the closet And stayed there for the rest of their lives

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Nate Wehner 9-Word Poem Legos vanished.

Abandoned desk.

Gone again.

Can’t he stay?

Carla Accogli

52

Emily Nocella Songs That Get You Through, Somehow Midnight Shadows Finding love Is a battle Daylight is so Close Don’t you worry We’re going to Be alright All of the tears Come and go Just make up your mind We decided Were going to Be alright Slow motion Can’t seem to get Where we’re going But The hard times Are golden Because they all lead To better days Were going to Be alright Somehow

53

Michael Springer 9-Word Poem Fishing line winds around fingers, Mist bursts, spraying freely.

John Nikitas

54

Stewart Growdon My Grandpa’s Pool I step out of my mom’s car And into my grandpa's cobblestone Driveway. and make My way to his pool I prance to the diving board and let my eyes Wander into the blue sea before me.

And dive I close my eyes as my body plunges into the warm rippled water

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Myles Haight Rapids In my glistening red kayak.

My dripping wet black paddle Sky high over my head.

This mud brown four foot beaver dam Feels like 10,000,000, feet What will happen to me?

Namita Aluvila

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Hayden Shortsle One Moment A second in time Anything can happen One moment, a drop of water Surges through rapids It flows toward life It falls over the edge Spreading happiness, love By the time it’s done every drop is joyous One day the drops start to swirl A whirlpool slowly withdraws it until It is gone Sadness washes over me Water boils The most buoyant is gone Forever

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Advika Rangan Untitled My memory of disqualification floods my mind False Start Me, when I was 9, diving off the block My heart stopped As I Looked around Saw… No one else in the water What happened?

My best event and I was…

DISQUALIFIED! WOAH! WHAT? I hoisted myself out of the pool Sat in a little corner “We all make mistakes,” my coach said.

My memory circles my mind As I step onto the starting block I shake with nervousness I hear “take your mark” I curl my fingers over the block “On your marks, Get set, ‘Hup’” I dive off the block and feel the cold water Submerge me as I go Down Deep

58

Evan Varones Water Wonder Looking aimlessly at the purple picture perfect jet ski As if you can feel it gliding along the shining shimmering crystal clear water

Caroline Keil

59

Carla Accogli Michelangelo I tap my yellow pencil on the table, like a hammer that hits on a chisel Finally I stop‌ The tip of the pencil approaches the paper I stop again Reimagine the drawing that I have to free, from its smooth, marbled trap, I gaze at the paper, Turn it 360 degrees So I can feel where to begin If I start in the wrong place The art inside could collapse Finally the pencil settles on the paper stiffly A small, light line slowly frees itself from the white trap Everything smoothes Line, after line Chip, after chip Until it finally tears the trap away I gaze again at the the shades of yellow and red slowly combining into orange shadow-like, shadows cast, shadow edges, reflected light, halftone, full light It starts to come to life Then‌. the art, finally emerges.

60

Caroline Holland

61

Emily Nocella

62

Carys Kelly

Don’t Know What To Do The sky is blue don’t know what to do Last class English Typing

For the week To end Stuck Don’t know What to do The sky is blue I do not know what to do

Clock Ticking Tick Tick Ticking

Ticking tick Tick Ticking

Waiting For the clock to stop For the bell to ring That is all I want 2 More Minutes Wait waiting Waiting Homework The worst Thing Of all

I want the Weekend I want my weekend North Shore FC Lulu, Lilly and Kathrine But I am Not Excited For the homework On the Weekend

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Rosie Meyer The Worst Annoyance homework,noun School work assigned to be done out of the classroom But for me An annoying sheet of paper that hangs over your head ALL DAY HOMEWORK Speak of the devil In the upper school I knew there would Be more Homework comes in different shapes and sizes Homework comes from my classes I usually have 10 math problems from math class And 30 mins of reading (it feels like 1 hundred years).

And cornell notes Homework is a bad thing I feel stressed Dizzy Upset Homework makes me and my brother Moody and unpleasant Homework is so bad but I will warn you to do it because if you do not do your homework your teacher will get mad and take away your recess

64

Julia Nathanson The Pencil Make a mistake?

Maybe a BIG one that messes up everything Or just a little dot outside of the lines It has you covered Dancing around Leaving a trail behind it Light as a feather Sharp as a pair of scissors If you use it It can lead you to a path that can brighten your future Finding a home in your hand Until it is so dull It is unusable

65

Sophia Maggos Red Hot peppers, flames, train horns Blaring through the tunnel Blood on your tongue The residue of blood on your white shirt The sound of the mathematical textbooks slamming shut The heat bounces off my body Turns me into flames The red expo marker Squeaks across the board Like a bloody footstep in the white snow I look up, glimpse an octagon or another Sign that tells me to stop At the top of the paper: That sharp red F

Nate Woldenberg

66

Kate Danaher 255 Wentworth Street 255 Wentworth Street had tall windows, long hedges, and white-clad walls; the black shutters were like eyelashes, and the door like a mouth. It was identical to all the others. Inside lived a family of four: a father, a mother, a daughter, a son. It was 2044. The government controlled what was heard, displayed, and said. It was better this way.

Through the gate, in the door, down the hallway, and to the right was a kitchen, with two stools on which a little boy and a little girl sat. Pancakes were flipped, eggs were cooked, and orange juice was poured.

“Good Morning, Art,” said the little girl.

“Why, yes, it is a good morning,” said Art, as he cut up an apple. Suddenly, a tiny metal object went flying across the room.

“I think you popped another screw, Art,” said the little boy, handing him the screw.

“It would appear so. Tell those parents of yours to get me fixed,” Art said, motioning over with his metal finger to the father sitting at the dining room table watching the news.

“Soon, Art, soon,” responded the father, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair. The TV was black and white. Behind a table, sat a man and a woman. “President Jones has announced his candidacy for his 9th reelection. Almost to the lucky ten!” announced the man, straightening his tie, then playing with the buttons on his sleeve.

“Why yes, Bill, you are quite right that the president is an amazing man who has kept this nation at peace with his New Reform Program. What a great man he is!” the lady on the TV screen announced this and then turned for the Pledge of Allegiance.

“I pledge allegiance to my president and to the government for which he stands, one nation, indivisible, with peace and law for all."

They all turned back and carried on with the reports, which consisted of the steady economy and a 0% crime rate. The children were not watching, but instead eagerly finished their food.

“Good morning children,” sang the voice in the wall.

“Good morning Miss Clarisse,” replied the children.

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“It is time for you both to get ready. Upstairs please,” said Miss Clarisse.

The children pounded up the stairs. The boy went left and the girl went right. One room had pink walls and the other had blue. Each room had a single twin bed positioned to one side. There were identical white dressers in each room, and a window on the wall farthest from the door.

“Children, your outfits are hanging in your closets. Oh, and don’t forget to brush your teeth,” sang Miss Clarisse, the voice in the wall.

Indeed, inside the closets there were two outfits: navy pants and a button down shirt, and a navy skirt and a button down blouse. The children dressed, and then headed into their bathroom. Each picked up a toothbrush. On went the toothbrush; it brushed and swirled and scrubbed and whirled, until they had clean teeth. Then out of the wall came two robotic arms with a brush in hand. They brushed the children’s hair. The little girl’s hair was put up into a tight ponytail.

The children then rushed downstairs so as to not be late for school. The whole family piled into the car. The engine roared and they soared 10, 20, 100 feet off the ground. The traffic was not particularly bad this morning. The first to be dropped off was the boy. He went to a school that looked like a giant cinder block. Then the little girl was dropped off. Again, she went to a school that looked like a giant cinder block. The mother was dropped off at a house with tall windows, long hedges, and white clad walls; the black shutters like eyelashes, and a door like a mouth. The father then sped off to work, leaving his wife to stiff conversations and baking. Down the street and around the corner was where the father worked. It was a big building with tall ceilings and lots of windows, but somehow you weren’t able to see inside. He parked the car and strolled on in to work .

While he was at work, the children were off learning. The little boy sat in a classroom listening to his teacher drone on about addition.

He stared at a spot on the wall where a window should have been. He traced his name over and over again onto the desk: March, March, March; quickly erasing after every stroke. The bell rang and it was off to history. The same pattern was repeated. March listened to his teacher drone on, then stared at a spot on a wall where a window would’ve been, and finally traced his name over and over again. This time instead of addition the teacher was explaining how the world was filled with chaos until President Johnson’s reform. March had heard this story thirty times. He wiggled in his seat, and then he saw a note on the ground.

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He picked the note up. It read: “The world was once a free and just place. You are being fed lies. After school, 2 o’clock sharp reach under the bench in Rathberry Park. Take it, but don’t tell anyone.” Out of shock and fear he dropped the note, then scrambled to pick it up.

This accusation was one unheard of. Nevertheless at 2 o’clock sharp, 30 minutes before March was to meet his sister, he sat on a park bench in Rathberry Park. He reached his right hand under the bench, and felt a cool, smooth rectangular surface taped to the underneath of the bench.

He gripped the edge of the object, ripping it free, and quickly stuffing it inside his backpack. No one had seen.

At 2:30 March met his sister in front of their house. Miss Clarisse welcomed them, and they said hello back and ran up the stairs to their rooms. March went left and his sister went right. He shut his door and opened the book, except it wasn’t a book, it was more like a journal. Inside were the details of a life March did not know even existed. It was a life of war, but yet, freedom, expression, and passion. It was a life he wanted to live, but he could not.

Alarms went off, the windows broke, and little March was dragged away by arms with an eagle patch on the forearm. Nobody remembered him ever again, but instead continued on with their lives unaware.

69

Samantha Rogers

Mary Lee Stress is a Fire

It ignites at the most unexpected Moment, when you think life Could not get any worse It starts from a simple piece of wood, You just watch and It gets bigger and bigger The flames overpower everything around it, spreading recklessly It surrounds you and doesn’t care about what it burns And then It devours you 70

Justinian Alexos Anger Anger is a house Where the key is lost The mirrors are painted black Anger is when no one can get to you It is when you are trapped It is when the flowers are dead There are no windows You can’t see But the garden is burnt Anger is when the couch is wood The table is the floor The food is rotten The bed doesn't keep you warm Your closet is empty The pictures are ripped The doors are locked from outside in Anger is like hell Easy to get in hard to get out And the devil contains you

71

Finn Harrison Magenta The end of the end of the day has begun The final cloud passes over the land Before unveiling the stars, a curtain unveiling a stage One last blast of light Made by a faraway Sun Amplified by cloud And there it is slowly reeling from red and descending into purple Magenta.

Laying continuosly Conflicted Purple Red Purple looks greedily from one side Red look pleadingly from another as if two parents in a custody battle Spoiling their child, angling for the spotlight of best parent.

Magenta has to make a decision But doesn’t Instead she is her own epiphany Of color.

Hanna Cobin

72

Genevieve Farrell How to Win a Fight with Your Sibling Step 1: Get your dog to bite him As Gino came into my room to slap me with a pillow, I yelled for my dog. She sprinted down into the hallway, her collar jingling.

She jumped on my bed, and I Waved my arms in the air, jumping around, getting her all wound up. As Gino approaches me with the intent of bugging me, my dog snaps. A small dot of blood appears on his arm. Soon she starts jumping on Gino, and wacking him with her tail. Gino falls to the ground, and he passes out. I win.

Step 2: If you don’t have a dog, throw things As Gino slowing lunges into my room to slap me with a pillow, I reach for a red Solo cup on my bedside table that used to have water in it. He swings his arm back ready to release the pillow, but before he can, I throw the cup at him. If only it still had sibling-defeating water in it! I start throwing all pillows on my bed. Following that blankets, sheets, anything I can find. I pick up my shoes, my lunchbox, even my dog’s bone. Gino starts laughing, so I win.

Step 3: (Your Last Resort) Call your mom Gino wacks me with a pillow, and I fall to the ground. 1, 2, 3 more times my face gets more smushed into the hardwood floor.

One last hit and a large red river starts flowing out of my nose.

Great, a nose bleed. I can only think of one thing, “MOM! GINO IS HITTING ME!!!” (So you would think I win again because younger siblings have a “non getting in trouble pass” But nope.)

“GINO, STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER, AND GENEVIEVE STOP YELLING! NOW GIVE ME YOUR PHONES, AND HERE IS YOUR CHORES LIST!” “Pffff I’m not doing those chores!” Gino says “Okay fine, you’re grounded, and you are too Genevieve,” my mom says “WHAT DID I DO?!?!?!” I scream I guess you will never win a fight with your sibling…

73

Izzy Smith Red is a Bull You run and scream Just like the bull runa But YOU ARE the bull everyone's laughing at you You’re playing field hockey copy their words.

Trying hard not whack them with your stick You stomp through the hall But get up from class with confidence And sometimes it’s tears of fury When the person you're mad at tries to comfort you You snatch your arm back That’s. True fury You smell like bean boozled jelly beans and cashmere pink perfume You taste a flaming red cry baby, it’s like fire and ice frozen of realization You Are It

74

Katherine Terlato

Emma Berti 9-Word Poem Standing in peach heels, Light salmon suffuses the sky.

75

Eduardo Pontes Sweet Treat (any of a variety made with sugar and syrup etc.)

You’re sweet, sour and filled with sugar.

My favorite kind are gummy worms.

When I have them on Fro Yo they’re chewier and harder and make the Fro Yo taste sweeter.

I also like marshmallows I like them on Fro Yo But even Better when they’re on s'mores.

I like when the S’mores are all Cracked up.

I also like Doing beans Boozled challenges With my Friends.

I almost Never barf.

But I come close.

On long Flights I Usually get Lifesavers.

They are one Of my favorites.

Because I like playing With the holes in the middle.

And their sweet taste.

Candy will always Be something I love!

76

Ben Arthurs Blue Blue Mike and Ike in a blue bowl, eaten only by me While a YouTube video Called “10 Hours of Relaxing Music” plays in my head

All the candy lined up Along the edge of my desk Forms an ocean Swimming with blue dragons Slowly I must transition into my homework Dragons surround me, Briefly setting my papers on fire Blue shades of Microsoft Word, Google Docs The background on my Gmail page when finally I finish, I eat more blue candy And a dragon flies up to my window I climb on and ride Into the navy blue night

77

Noa Paige Bremen In Front of Your Face Eyes.

Each one tells a different story.

A portal, direct translation, of the World.

Their past, Their present, Their future.

What have they seen, observed?

Do their memories haunt them like ghosts hiding in shadows?

Or encourage them to go the extra mile, taking life One step at a time?

Have they experienced terror, Fear waiting to strike?

Have they learned to see the light in front of them, Finding happiness and love?

What do they remember?

Do they recall details or chunks of time?

Have they seen and lived life in colors, shapes, designs?

Or have they been blind, not knowing what they are missing?

They Are Always There.

Insights to the world in front of you.

78

Kevin Taylor Melancholy A patch of old melons Planted on a farm last summer But left uncared for when the farmer died Defenseless against the harsh world A row of moldy melons Overheated from the hundred degree sun Wet from the pelting rain A cluster of misshapen melons That no one dares go near Not worthy of kitchen knives Whose seeds will never breathe air Its flesh not sweet enough One lonely melon At the end of its uneventful life Never served a purpose

79

Arianna Griffiths Where Were You? I was nowhere.

Roaming the earth on horseback waking up in a desert and falling asleep in a cave.

I was lost.

My compass was shattered so I locked it away.

I was forgotten.

Every time I passed a village they locked their doors and hid from my face.

I was somewhere.

Watching over my city from a hilltop.

I was right there.

You just didn't notice me.

I was nowhere.

Trapped in an old cardboard box, sealed in until someone breaks me out.

I was lost.

My compass was shattered so I locked it away, never to be seen again.

I was forgotten.

People closed their doors on my face, even being on a Wanted poster would be nice.

I was somewhere.

Even though nobody realized it.

I was right there.

You just didn't notice me.

80

Libby Blodgett

81

Felicity Whidden PINK Ballet shoes worn by a little girl stumbling onto stage The hot lights blind her Like applause She believes She’ll be famous Picking out the tinted jelly beans on Easter Leaving the toxic ones Black and untouched Sprinkles on a cupcake Sinking into the frosting Plastic specs bleed color Tasteless, essential A rare gem A delicate vase A baby's blanket Washed and worn thin By road trips and tea parties

One by one a bud awakens Petals on a flower bloom With diminished delight Potential eclipsed Silently, wilting Into the earth

82

Olivia Barnes

Eli Zuerlein 9-Word Poem Baby’s white blanket Becomes The nostalgic boy’s tan friend

83

Anna Ferdkoff

Namita Aluvlia The Crystal Dancer Twirls, flips, whirls Flinging out sprays of white light To flit across the space Casting out rainbows With a glittering wand of sunlight Blazing sparks of white fire Continue their waltz Until light turns to dark Only to start over When the dancer once again Captures its quarry

84

Libby Blodgett Blossom Jubilance is a daisy It grows throughout its lifetime Grounded in the rich soil The yellow eye of the flower opens wide The wind encourages Brushing the back of the petal Ever so gently Powder sprinkles over the land The petals to depart The stem diminishes Daisy is a lost orphan Bowing her head Until the sun returns When she sees her friends bloom far in the field Across from the cherry blossoms, The rebirth of a daisy

85

Ashton Peterson

86

Grace Satter Untitled Open closet A glow spills out like a tsunami I pause as magic takes hold Take a risk I step in It embraces me, cuddles me like a blanket I peek up Hanging high above are sweatshirts of every kind I turn my head left All I see are shoes Shoes!

High heel Low heel Gym shoes Sandals Thousands more My eyes sparkle at the sight I jolt my head right Carefully let the tips my fingers drift along the Softest Thickest Thinnest Fabrics of all the colorful, bedazzled dresses I twirl Only To hear footsteps Thud, thud, thud I dash out the closet Magic slips from my shoulders and fingertips Warmth leaves my side Doors close, magic fades Coldness takes hold.

87

Ben Whelan Pizza My one true love A round, hot circle of awesomeness The most perfect thing on planet earth That has ever been discovered With infinite choices and toppings It is the ultimate meal The best thing about this food Is hearing your doorbell ring twenty minutes after Ordering from your phone with a pizza phone case Or smelling it in the car As you drive it home after a long day It is only happiness Until...

You come to the last piece Like the last conversation with a best friend Before a move Sadness washes over you Like marinara sauce on a white circle of dough You think, how could it be?

How is it already so close to gone?

You sit there thinking of pizza Wishing for more Observing the remains of the once-delicious food I think, next time I will savor Every single piece I click on my 2015 Mac And look online for pizza places that could beat the greatness of my hometown place, New York Slices Only To find Joe’s Pizza and Italian Restaurant 870 miles away 88

Rodrigo Pontes McDonalds or Taco Bell?

McDonalds Or Need ketchup on that burger?

How about some onions?

Coca Cola or Sprite?

Taco Bell?

Want tomatoes on the taco?

Do you want cheese?

You want a Baja Blast or Baja Blast Freeze?

Fries or apple slice? (Obviously fries) Nacho cheese fries or chips and guac?

You want a burger or chicken nuggets? Taco or burrito?

Big Mac or Mac Junior?

Doritos Locos or Crunchy Taco?

Cash or credit?

What's your dream job?

What is your best childhood memory? Are you good, bro?

What's wrong but sounds right?

Where is your life headed?

What is a miracle that happens everyday?

Now back to the choice: Taco Bell or McDonalds?

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Rodrigo Pontes Pizza in 9 Words Yielding bubbles bulge on bread Finished in two bites

Chase Pappas

90

Fallon Anderson Zigzag Stitch You feed me cloth I stitch it up I make your shirt and your skirt I am round and pointy I Make your shoes and socks You take my bobbin Fill it up Ready to stitch...

It all back up

91

Ben Arthurs

92

Lilly Stewart Gone In a Flash My little cavalier running in our yard for the last time My little cavalier lying on his bed for the last time My little cavalier hopping in the car for the last time My dad rolls down the window of our dirty, SUV Rocky still wagging his tail, not knowing his fate He kisses me under the nose but above the lip Who will he go with?

Is this my fault?

Am I a bad owner?

I zoom out of my sad helpless space out Without thinking a tear stroll downs my face Each tear, another memory I run and sit down on one of the big rocks In the corner of my eye I see a blue blob It’s his favorite toy I squeak it I hear the sound of cicadas buzzing as if they were angry My dad pulls out

And he’s gone in a flash

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Chase Pappas Salto I run to the other side of the floor I leap into a flip Controlling myself in the air Arms holding my knees Tight core Tight legs... stick it

Avery Fleisch

94

Abby Trejo Stuffed Bear Maybe I’m a stuffed bear Given to a crying baby To lull it back to sleep Covered in her spit and tears Hugged Given wet kisses

Named teddy Fluffy and soft like cotton candy Stitching coming undone around my eye Smells like rancid milk We have tea parties with the little pink cups conversations about mommy and daddy My heart swells with happiness when we play But soon she talks about lipstick and boys Glued to a glowing device Our tea party tea cups have been empty for years I see the leaves change color Bright red to brilliant green many times over She is now gone I gather dust My stuffing thins I fade in the early morning sunlight A voice grows closer Could it be her She comes in graves her phone and leaves again , I am in a box my memories tucked around me Like tissue paper Through a hole in my cardboard coffin I hear familiar sounds that I thought I would never hear again All of a sudden I am flooded with light I know this sight An angel reaching out to me with paint all over its hand I smell the dirty diaper and somehow i’m not repulsed I am in beartopia 95

John Nikitas A Final Wave A final wave As he gets in the car The door shuts The car pulls out of the driveway And rumbles into The Distance As I remember‌ Remember‌ The first day of second grade In math we are put together I am curious to work with the new kid At first, we silently play Chutes and Ladders He falls down the final chute before the end I laugh He laughs too Fast forward On Halloween we present a funny story about goblins together We start controlled But soon we are laughing We barely finish the presentation When we sit down we quietly giggle After the teacher has told us to stop Fast forward Sixth grade We slide down a dark waterslide It dips and curves Water splashes around us We hold on to the tube, yelling and laughing

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Fast forward My phone buzzes I check it I read the text‌ Fast forward Frantic texts Sad emojis A houseparty call No...

Fast forward A final wave As he gets in the car The door shuts The car pulls out of the driveway And rumbles into The distance As I turn back I hold in tears And as the car disappears on the horizon I remember‌

97

Matthew Hahn

Lucy H. Partington 9-Word Poem Slowly lowering, Not Knowing, Water splashing, Fear becomes pride.

98

Sy Rosenblatt The Showers Rain A fall or shower of rain But today it’s known as pouring I wonder if anyone likes waking up, going down stairs eating my toast and jam when you’re looking out the kitchen window thinking about how this miserable soggy weather is going to ruin your plans for the entire weekend I hate having to think that my whole weekend of plans Would’ve been going into town with some friends on our bikes But instead I’m sitting here eating my toast and jam while the bread is getting soggy Like the lush grass packed down in my backyard disappointment Because the weather gods had to put a rain shower on Highland Park, Illinois

So I still don’t get why some people like rain Maybe because you get to jump in puddles Get wet shivering and chilled Cold and clammy Sitting in a kitchen Wrapped in a towel On the chair Next to the kitchen table 99

Sean Garrick

Emily Nocella Where I Live Turn left at the exit LOST DOG signs planted everywhere Where a blue house Is hidden in the forest Turn onto Valley Road You see the old man Walking his German Shepard Dusk till dawn Keep going straight Fishing rods hang over The pond Look to your left An old house FOR SALE The cracking brick around The girl who was once my age But is now 99 Then a new fence That keeps all of our memories In one place 100

Michael Bousis Popcorn I walk to the AMC theater in Northbrook my nose picks up a salty buttery snack I wait in line for years After a millenium I get my sweet popcorn and head to my seat By the end of the previews my hand feels the kernels My mind is wondering what should I do And my stomach is yelling for MORE I sprinted back to the counter the line is out the door I wait about ten years to get my delicious sweet popcorn I sprint back to my seat all I see are ending credits

Hana Uddin

101

Hana Uddin This Poem Doesn’t Need A Colorful Title An intense rush of color A loss of words My heart thuds in my chest as my hands get clammy Even the smallest “hello” comforts Sweetly acidic, artificial From unknown faces, an outgoing smile I close my eyes and soak up the warm beams that hit my skin I radiate energy I climb up the tangled vine Grasping mother nature’s frail hands They help me up And I’m sure I’m not alone Silent streams appear every time they shape me make me stronger It’s broken ankle, A fight, it’s a dumb joke and I can’t stop laughing, A classic guy-gets-girl in the end I can stop and take it in Art holding onto the stem The things I take for granted red, orange, yellow , green blue, and purple Were not pumped out of a machine But started in the great outdoors

102

Anna Satter

103

Kevin Taylor A Poem Inspired by The Giver

Anticipation, excitement, happy kinship Turns to humiliation and terror You feel I have made a mistake I feel like I have made a mistake But I don’t know what I did wrong I have caused you anxiety I have caused you anguish You have not been assigned My heart sank What have I done You have been selected To be our Receiver of Memory A bearded man With pale eyes Comes into my view We failed in our last selection We cannot afford another failure Discomfort Uneasy shifting

The training involves pain You must be brave

I don’t feel brave at all You have the Capacity To See Beyond

104

Paige Roby Mistakes Riley Wyatt shot up from her sleep, dripping in sweat. This morning, at 11:30, she was starring in Romeo and Juliet as the gorgeous Capulet herself. Riley was horrified, to say the least. She had the most lines by far; what if she stuttered or tripped over one of the fake rose vines on the stage? She stood up out of bed, and with her shaking hands, slipped on her ancient gown for the play, and ran over to her dresser. Her pot of blush clicked shut just as her mother called, “Riley dear, we must be on our way.”

11:10, she snatched her light pink lipstick off her desk and briskly applied it to her lips.

“Riley!”

“Hold on!” Quickly, Riley swiped her mascara on to her freshly curled lashes.

“Ril..”

“COMING!” With one last check to make sure everything was absolutely perfect, Riley rushed out of her glowing, white bedroom.

She slammed the car door shut at the sight of the Rosebud Theater. The sign was perfectly coated with red glitter that sparkled like a crystal lake in the dawn. In that moment, Riley’s feet had a mind of their own, racing to the dressing rooms faster than a deer being chased by a panther. She opened the dressing room doors to the sight of her cast in a circle, reciting their lines. She relaxed and glided to Romeo, George Cunningham. Riley constantly compared himself to him. He was perfect; he knew his lines and blocking forwards and backwards; he got the best costume, and he was the director’s favorite. Riley despised him.

“Don’t bother me my dear Juliet. I’m rehearsing my lines, not that I need to…” George hummed with a sly smirk forming on his face.

“Shocker, and don’t call me Juliet. Come on, we must practice blocking, and we all know you don’t need to rehearse your lines.”

“Well I am perfect,” George snickered with a now fully developed smirk on his face.

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The spotlights blinded her as Riley stood on her famous balcony. “Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo,” Riley. She waited, “Where in the world is George?” The spotlights searched the stage for the beloved Montague’s face. Riley was as sweaty as she was this morning; “Where is my Romeo?” Just as the name “Romeo” came out of Riley’s mouth there was a scream, a blood-curdling, heart-wrenching scream, coming from behind the curtains.

What happened that night of April 20th was unspeakable.

George Cunningham had shuddered for a good one minute on the famous line, “Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again,” before booking it off the stage into the dressing rooms. The audience was left in shock. The perfect child of William and Christine Cunningham had just blanked on his lines. “What an utter disgrace to his family,” everyone thought. During the famous balcony scene, Benvolio had come across Romeo spinning in the air, rope around his neck.

He had screamed but he wasn’t surprised.

“I guess the burden of his mistake was too much for him,” said Benvolio in his quiet, shaky voice.

It was the year 2089. The goal to have the best social standing, grades, house, look, ect. was everything to everyone. A mistake became the highest form of a social crime. They were the cause of over around 50 suicides, per state, every day.

That night Riley walked to her car in a death-like trace. “Who knew someone so intellectually and biologically perfect would do something like that?” She pulled the glittering handle of the silver Mercedes. Riley’s arms and legs felt like dead weight as she slumped into the passenger’s seat. Riley’s eyes met her mother’s. She looked normal, just as she had been this morning.

Her mother laid her warm hands on Riley’s face, “Riley, honey what’s the matter with you. You look so pale,” Riley stepped back, removing her head out of her mother’s hands, “Di.. did you not see what happened in there, with George?” Riley stuttered.

“Ah, that boy made the right choice; he completely embarrassed himself and his poor family. If you had pulled something like that I would do that same thing.”

“I mean, he really wasn’t all that bad…”

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“Now sweetie, you know what we have always taught you; if you aren’t perfect, it’s not a life worth living. As the famous chant goes ‘perfect people prevail.’”

“Perfect people prevail,” Riley repeated in her head, almost hypnotized. She didn’t understand why life would be so bad if you made a mistake and lived with it. “What would happen anyways?

Would the town shun me, never talk to me again, treat me like dirt because I made one, little mistake?” Riley blankly stared out her car window, at all the people with perfect skin, hair, clothes, life, until the car was parked in the garage.

Riley glided up the stairs like a ghost into her room.

“I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, perfect people prevail, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, perfect people prevail, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect,” she chanted while passing her room. The thought of making a mistake scared people even drove them crazy.

“What if I’m crazy, what if I’m not perfect, what is perfect?”

Riley was now on her floor shaking. A few feet away was her everything, her beloved IPhone x with a Swarovski crystal case. Her fingers clenched around it as she held it up to her face to unlock it.

She clicked on the colorful icon for the famous Instagram, opened the camera, and took a photo. It was just a photo of her with no makeup, no filter, just her. Her thumb lay shaking over “post”. “I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect.” Riley chanted, willing her thumb to hit her possible doom. She finally tapped the dreaded button. “It’s perfect.”

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Libby Blodgett White A new beginning A fresh start Cleansing your palate To reign in a color scheme White Stays true to its word Resembles a promise It may not show but is still loyal along your side White Nature’s hat and north face coat in winter Chilly yet refreshing It is as gentle as a snowflake landing on your nose White The color of your ice cream on Saturday nights Eating away while Netflix is loading The ice cream color matching the percent’s As they get higher by the second.

White You will find it at the end of the rainbow Not at the pot of gold But to the left of it Where you will see me holding the colors in place Bringing them together As a collective

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Lindsay Stone

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Anton Walvoord Gr( )y The ever alternating sound of halls filled with chatter And the shell of silence In those that are empty .

Two spellings, another duality The muffled noise of mourning doves flying away and a single car driving by.The unnoticed noises of life passing.

Grey is waiting To be discovered.

White: swirling in endless energy Black: trapped in monochromatic melancholy Maybe we have seen wrong and Black is swirling endless energy White is trapped monochromatic melancholy Gray is the mediator Neither is right Neither is wrong Grey can represent both White is the dawn’s glow Black is the dusk’s shadow Gray is twilight The witching hour Grey is your reflection in the window, slowly changing year by year

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Kelly Wyne What’s Stalking?

Adorable face here and there Watching, Stalking, Wherever you go She will accompany White fur, dots of black And hypnotizing pools for eyes Chasing Sprinting Then Plunge In she goes out of sight Hiding Then POUNCE! What am I?

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Lauren Berish Lime Green A whisper being passed around A mossy brick wall against your back An old Buggy that doesn’t run anymore A moldy uncut lime growing fur in the fruit bowl When people wear me, they spread rumors Nobody thinks of me as human I am an alien of sorts But I want to be trusted

Sy Rosenblatt

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Nicholas Lubaev Maroon An underrated color Mixed of black and red And tastes of red velvet a dark, raspberry smell As I grasp it I graze sandpaper And feel powerful I dive into its contents, travel Into a fictional land Roamed by pirates I spy a vessel With crew piling the helm Fire hanging from the captain’s black beard The ships sails blend of black and red And a ragged flag with a skull and bones hangs from the mast The fourty gunned ship sprints across the ocean Heading towards its next victim An underrated color Made up of black and red

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Ben Arthurs Found Poem: Watch He turned and opened A small bottle And a syringe Carefully he began to fill the syringe With clear liquid He began very carefully to direct the needle To the top of the newchild’s forehead The newborn squirmed, And wailed faintly He pushed the plunger slowly Injecting liquid into the scalp vein Until the syringe was empty

The newchild moved his arms and legs In a jerking motion He went limp His head fell to the side, His eyes half open He was still.

He waited for something to happen.

Nothing did.

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Anton Walvoord The Rattle Fear is a rat Scuttling Burrowing Crawling inside Moving around your Organs and tieing Them up into Little knots until they Spill from your mouth In hateful bursts Fear is a rat pulling your hair Into tiny clumps of shame and Sorrow Fear is a rat racing down your back Onto your hands Moving to fight those you Don’t understand Fear is a rat A plague of awful Deeds done Fear is a rat The echo of a whisper Rattling within you “It’s too late”

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Dennis Troha

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Sydney Frusher anxiety i can’t control it anymore the words. thoughts. bursting out of my head uncontrollable. i want it to go away but. i can’t. escape.

I’m trapped within the mess I created

my hands glued to the table as i’m too afraid to speak or raise my hand without the fear of being judged when they look at me, & forget about me, i stay up late, worrying about what they will think of me the words pasted across my wall they will never love me even when they tell me they do they are just using me & i don’t even realise it I sometimes fear the worst things will occur before they even happen i’m afraid of my own mind twitchiness, stressed, worried They whisper, & i’m Thinking everyone is talking about me afraid they’ll think i’m too ‘dramatic’, or an ‘attention seeker’ no one will understand me That they’ll think i’m too happy & cheerful But in reality, i’m Putting up a fake smi;le, a fake personality, acting like i’m stronger than i feel so they won’t ask Why 117

Anna Satter Our Broken World Silent screams shatter my mind My eyes that have seen hell itself The pain I feel rips my bones to blood My shriveled heart crumples away with every breath I take What more could god give me in this broken world Herds of humans swarm towards concentration camps Families walk in shower houses and never come out again German guns point to Jewish heads.

Tears fall as bodies tumble to the ground.

I'm scarred by what my ocean-blue eyes see Monsters disguised as men rip through each other We have all gone mad And I live to show us all.

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Naomi Fleisch

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Henry Roloson The Devil Arachnids: Any group of small animals without backbones, having a body divided Into two parts and four pairs of legs.

Spiders Are able to spin silken threads for making cocoons And webs.

As in: THE DEVIL OF SATIN. They come from The little cracks in your room and then they crawl in your mouth ďż˝.

I have seen these devils crawl from my bathtub drain!

As in: I think these Bugs are camping outside of my House waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Like they probably do in Call of Duty.

As in: WE CAN STOP THE DEVILS. Together go To the store right now and grab a bug swatter!

WE TOGETHER CAN STOP THESE Arachnids!

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Matthew Hahn Mosquitos Mosquitos, noun A pesky insect that sucks blood from humans and animals or from my perspectiveIrritating, Annoying, merciless beasts of the outdoor As in: Something that buzzes around your face while you trudge through the brackish waters of a swamp As in: you splash around a muddy soccer field They come in swarms Wave after wave after wave You try to slap them away but they are so persistent to eat you alive The burning in your legs, face, arms Ugh!

The worst part of all - the itch I itch and itch and itch ‘till my body is red The pink spot on my face, A bump on my leg Those pests with no grace I’d rather be dead…

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Gavin Roby

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Bia Leffingwell A Wall for All The year is 2217. Today, all American citizens will celebrate the 100-year anniversary of the construction of the “Safety Barrier to the Outside World,” also known as S.B.O.W. Citizens are not supposed to call it a wall, because that would be against civil standards and the 49th amendment of the Constitution. At exactly 9 a.m., when all citizens should be sitting down to eat their breakfast, the digital device implanted in front of the table will begin to flash yellow-black-yellowblack to get their attention. Then, after 20 seconds of flashing, the device begins to speak and its words show on the device: “TODAY CELEBRATES 100 YEARS OF OUR SAFETY BARRIER TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. ALL CITIZENS ARE PARDONED FROM WORK OR SCHOOL AND ARE REQUIRED TO ATTEND THE NATIONAL PARADE AT THEIR LOCAL PARADE GROUNDS.” The voice then repeats this message and the words disappear from the device, leaving it black once again. After listening to the announcement, Blake sets her fork down and looks at her younger brother, Evan, who is staring at his waffle blankly.

“Ev, did you hear the announcer? We have to go to the parade grounds today.” She continues to look at him, waiting for acknowledgement, but he continues to stare at his plate. “Evan!”

He turns his head glumly to meet Blake’s eyes.

“I heard it,” he says, continuing to stare at his plate.

“You know I worry about you. It always seems like you’re never here. I mean- you’re here physically, but not mentally. I guess you always seem a little out of it.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“I’m always worried, Evan. Mom says it’s what I do best. I just want to take care of my baby brother.”

“Just stop! I’m not some baby you have to look out for every second of your day. I don’t need you watching every second of my life like a hawk,” he stands up, slamming his hands on the table.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want you going to the border. It’s dangerous. And since last month, when you-” “When I what? Got caught leaving the house in the middle of the night? For God sake’s, Blake, I’m sixteen, it’s what sixteen-yearolds do.”

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“No, Evan, it’s not normal. You know you’ll get locked up if you leave the house past curfew. You’ll be exiled if you go anywhere near that wall! It’s what protects us from the Outside World, and you shouldn’t want to go near it.”

“What do you know about the Outside World? Everything they tell you at those stupid gatherings and parades? What if I told you there were normal people on the other side of that dumb wall? I doubt you’d believe me anyway.”

Blake’s face turns from concern to shock. “Do you hear yourself right now? Please, stay away from there. It’s not safe for you, and I’m not willing to risk losing another brother.”

“Always have to bring up Clark don’t you? Blake, I swear to God, if you don’t stay out of it, I’ll leave your life as quick as our brother did. So, leave me alone.”

Before Blake can protest, Evan storms out, slamming the door as he leaves the house. She can’t believe she actually brought up Clark, and that Evan even said his name. Clark’s death took the greatest toll on Evan, and it didn’t help that the whole country watched his execution live, calling him an abomination to the human race. Blake knows that’s why Evan barely speaks anymore, and she can never seem to do anything about it.

Two hours later, Blake gets in the transportation vehicle with her parents. They turn it on, and the fans start to blow, lifting the vehicle about 6 feet off the ground.

“Wait! Evan isn’t here yet.” Blake puts her hand on her father’s shoulder to stop him from driving away.

“Don’t worry, Blake, I’m sure he walked there after breakfast.

We haven’t seen him around the house today,” her mother tries to reassure her.

She knows he wouldn’t actually go to the parade, especially not after this morning’s argument. But, she can’t stop her parents from pulling away from their two-story house, identical to every single one in town, and speed away down the street.

At this very time, Evan jumps behind a bush, reading the sign stating: “Beware of the Safety Barrier to the Outside World.”

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Sandy Bay Township, in Maine, is right at the border of the wall, and at times citizens can hear the weapons going off in Canada.

The very weapons that the government is trying to prevent in their country are right over the barricade, exploding and shaking the ground every day. Not many know who or what is on the other side of the wall, but they do know that anyone who comes within 20 feet of it shall be exiled. To Evan, this rule is extremely unnecessary, especially since he knows exactly who is on the other side of the wall. He knows that there are normal humans, just like those in Sandy Bay, but each citizen is allowed to own several Weapons of Mass Destruction.

After he’s made sure there are no officers nearby, Evan races from the bush to behind a tree. He looks at his watch: 11:13.

Evan knows the grave risk of coming so close to the wall, but he can’t seem to stop himself when he thinks of Jules. She’s always there to talk to him about the problems of Sandy Bay, and she always helps him through it. No one else understands Evan like she does.

“Psst! Evan!”

He jumps. He looks around and finally he meets her eyes through the hole in the cement wall. The hole is only about six inches in diameter, with rough edges, at about eye-level for Evan.

“Jules, you’re early.”

“When am I not? Haven’t I told you before that it’s not illegal for us to go near the wall in Canada?”

“Oh, I missed your voice,” he sighs.

“It’s only been two days, silly,” she giggles.

“Yeah, but I’ve told you- Blake’s voice always gets so shrill when she’s excited or worried. And she’s always worried, so when she’s excited, it’s even worse. And I’ve had to pretend like I don’t know about how the government has made everything the same. I mean, seriously. Every single transportation vehicle is the same thing and yet somehow no one can see it but me. It’s crazy.”

She laughs, her eyes twinkling as she does so.

“Shush! You don’t want an officer to hear you.”

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But, it’s too late. Not far away, a guard hears a woman’s laugh and decides to check the spot where it came from. As he walks closer, he sees the young boy leaning close to the wall, whispering with what seems to be someone on the other side of the cement.

“Hey!” The guard shouts and starts to run towards Evan.

Evan whips his head over to see a guard standing there, staring right at him. He gasps and tries to run the other way, but suddenly he can’t move any limb in his body, and he falls to the ground. He lies in the grass, shaking from the Taser the guard just threw at him. He tries to protest and shout, but can only watch as the guard calls for backup and reaches for him on the ground. He grabs Evan’s arms, and grunts as he tries to lift him up. An army vehicle pulls up, and four guards jump out and grab Evan’s feet. They lift him into the vehicle and throw him into the back. He looks at his wrists as a guard locks cuffs on him. The engine revs and suddenly he feels the car move off at a great speed.

After a short amount of time passes, the vehicle stops and the guards lift Evan to his feet, as he can suddenly move again. His eyes refocus and he realizes that the entire city of Sandy Bay is staring at him on a stage, and that the mayor is on his right. The mayor walks up to the podium and taps the microphone.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, “This young boy has just been caught at the Safety Barrier to the Outside World, clearly knowing the rules against this. Officials say he attempted to run, causing them to have to Taser him. As protocol and the 50th Amendment require, he will be exiled in approximately 30 minutes time. This boy will have that time to say goodbye to his family and be rid of any belongings.” Several whispers are spread through the crowd. “As for the parade, it shall begin in 7 minutes. Happy National S.B.O.W. Day!” He tries his best to smile, to convince the citizens of his charm.

The guards push Evan forward as he tries to find Blake and his parents in the crowd. He finally spots his mother, who quickly looks away when his eyes meet hers. He walks through the crowd, feeling everyone’s eyes burning through him as they stare. He walks up to his family, but his parents avoid eye contact. They start to walk away, but he reaches for his mother’s hand.

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“I’m sorry, Mom. I know you won’t look at me. I know you think I’m a disappointment, just like Clark. But, I couldn’t continue to live in this world where we pretend everything’s okay, where we pretend that it’s totally normal for everyone to lead the exact same life. I’m sorry, Mom,” he says, continuing to hold her hand, his eyes begging for acknowledgement. She shakes her hand out of his and walks away. He turns his head to face Blake, her face is blotchy and tears are streaming down her face. She jumps toward him and squeezes him as tight as she can, knowing they have hundreds of people watching them.

She whispers in his ear through her hair, “I know you’re not like Clark. I know this society is insane. I know, Evan. But, we can’t risk everything and just leave. Promise me, Evan, that you’ll be safe.

Promise me you’ll come looking when that wall gets torn down. I know it will. Someday. Promise me, please.” She chokes on her final sentence, starting to sob.

“I promise, Blake,” he lets go of her, “I’ll see you again someday. But I have to go, now. Don’t let this place ruin you.”

He leaves her there, alone, heaving from her sobs, holding her face in her palms. He starts to walk glumly towards the guards, waiting just 10 feet away. They walk him back to the vehicle, and push him into the back. Evan closes his eyes, trying to hold back tears. He is finally going to see Jules; not through a six-inch hole in a cement wall.

The vehicle arrives at the border, and a huge metal door starts to lift. He steps out of the vehicle, not knowing what to expect on the other side of the metal gate. As the gate finally opens completely, he sees an asphalt road, leading through barren land. The guards push him through, and throw him a key for his hand cuffs, as the metal door starts to let out a beeping noise, warning that it’s closing. He catches his last glimpse of America, and reaches down for the key. He unlocks his cuffs, shakes them off, and then stands back up.

He turns around, coming face to face with a man holding a gun straight to Evan’s face.

Bang!

Evan falls to the ground, a white light overcomes him, and he struggles to catch his last breath.

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Maxwell Mullarkey How People Should Live not like robots working mindlessly nor worked day and night tool nor used making everything not in giant factories plunged down into debt by adulthood please no but like free falcons spreading their wings flying a jetpack suddenly falling down flying through the fields to land heavily On two feet onto the airfield

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Felicity Whidden Maybe I’m A… Maybe I’m a repairman drenched in rain Cracking a smile, my teeth chatter Holes in my clothes Dirty with labor Maybe I’m a repairman Sheltered Fixing the air of the house I have yet to live in Perspiring Maybe I’m walking along the streets Looking for a bite to eat While strangers pass and Scowl at my stringy hair, And face hidden by dirt Maybe I’m fixing a roof’s tiles Unprotected Wounds hide my hands From the sharp brown tiles Pretending not to notice But maybe I’m dry and clean And while I get lunch on my break, I pass a man on the street Begging for a job

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Brooke Mordini All the Way Exit the quiet house still filled With those rubbing their tired eyes.

Drag myself to the cold car and watch As the heat fills the space to the point where You can no longer see the stream of your own breath.

My mom stuffs things into the trunk; then we drive.

Out the window the frosty blades of grass say goodbye as they slowly move out of sight.

The awakening road welcomes us As we glide through the white coated trees shaking in cold morning air.

Turning, the sight of the rusty old stop sign, The same one I have seen, but never noticed.

Another long path of weary trees, that escorts us all the way To the one stop light that has wasted so much time.

We sit there still in the silence, my gaze drifts over To the cars driven by the many sleepwalkers.

Finally, the light greens and we drive into the moving mob.

On the road, snowflakes drift down and plaster the windshield.

The sight of the falling snow lures me to sleep.

And when I wake, we drive along the corn traced streets, Laced in snow that finally take me all the way to Iowa.

Evalyn Lee

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Lindsay Stone

Joshua Back Author’s Note Dear Joshua, Do you remember that book called, “The Immortal Serpent”? You got it from KMart? You would read it during sports events? You remember, right?

Well, WHAT A SURPRISE. I’m as shocked as a rock. I say that because you read it like every month and it’s about three hundred pages long. You keep bragging about it to your parents what seems to be about every day of your ridiculously long life. You say, “I just finished the entire book again.” I hate to burst your bubble kid, but, well, ya DIDN’T. You might be thinking, of course I finished the book, I’ve memorized the entire thing. Well haven’t you heard of the authors note? An Author's Note is the best part about the book. But what did you do? You ripped it out like a million years ago and said it was a pointless page the author wrote to try and be famous. Now I’m stuck in a dusty desk drawer waiting to be pulled out. I’ve been stuck in here for a bajillion years. I feel as lonely as a ripped page. Oh wait. I am a ripped page. Who knows how I got here.

All I want for you to do is to pull me out of the drawer and read me at least twice a day. I feel left out and unwanted. You like reading and I want to be read and feel important. The way I see it it’s a win-win. You know what would feel really good? If you taped me back in the book. I miss the other pages. I need to talk to someone. So if you do what I say, then I will be happy and you will be happy that I am happy. I think.

Sincerely, Author’s Note 131

Evalyn Lee Listening Side by side In our Ford Sunroof open The musty smell of the highway The wooshes of the cars around us The chilly breeze dances in our hair The perfect enunciation Of the NPR reporters Talking about horrible events: Shootings, bombings, hurricanes The silence between us With thoughts that scream At the hatred of the corrupt world I see her turn the knob of the volume Even facing the window I see in the reflection Creases in the corners of her eyes The NPR slowly fades away I hear the clicks on the screen Changing the station A familiar song sings out The beat louder than the words Erasing my thoughts, her thoughts We face each other Singing the lyrics I know every lyric She does not know as much Still singing at the top of our lungs Time stopped In the car With the sunroof Open.

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Izzy Smith Yellow Is‌ Failure for failures You fail in school, trying to be light blue Yellow smells like sunshine It gives you sweet daylight but it burns Clouds are better.

No one likes yellow It’s the color of blonde hair From a bottle or salon It tastes like you're being drowned by the giant wave in the ocean in Florida after having fun with your sister. You taste the salt and all of a sudden All face ends hurt.

Your throat, your nose ears and eyes The sting is real Get the hose and rinse off Get back out there

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Sydnie Blumenau Stay Gold One day we’re going to be at our last homecoming dance. One day we’ll be at our last volleyball game as a team. One day we’re going to be taking our last test, and eating our last organic life lunch.

One day we’re going to have our last fire drill and report card. One day we’re going to have our last Saturday night with the people we’ve made millions of memories.

One day we’re going to be closing our lockers, and walking out of those two doors for the last time. One day we’re going to be standing in alphabetical order, in our white dresses, suits and ties,

with the people we watched grow up. You look in the rows and spot your best friend. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up. You see the old friend who broke you; made you who you are today.

Some of these people we’ll never see again. The parents will smile and take pictures. As a teacher is giving your speech, you look off into your class once more. This we’ll be your last glance at the grade as a whole. Your smile will turn into tears as you hug your friends all together once more. One day you’ll forget about all the people you knew and you’ll barely remember the memories until you find a picture that makes you think of one. It’s not the goodbyes that hurt, but the flashbacks that follow. Stay gold panthers, stay gold.

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Charlie Walsh Untitled Wings Of a bird Of an angel Of a human “It’s not that I’m smart,” Make impossible, possible.

“I just stay with problems longer” Push further than your limits.

“We all, can do hard things” Now go and spread your wings.

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Acknowledgements

The 2018 Literary Magazine staff would like to express gratitude to Susan Murphy, Ami Polonsky and Marcia Mann--all of whom contributed expertise and countless hours to this year’s publication.

We are grateful to everyone who took a risk and submitted their work.

It takes courage to express your ideas and make art. Keep writing. Keep dreaming. Keep drawing. Keep photographing and painting. And no matter what, stay gold.

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2018 Editors

Hanna Cobin Arianna Griffiths

Emily Newman Mimi Osborne Darina Sokolova Alexandra Sugrue

Advisor: Kim Bell

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