Moneta Spring 2017 by Moneta

Moneta

Table of Contents ART Women of my village (cropped) cover Tehreem Waqas Mela Unity

Tess Hossman

Little Drowl

Claire Zicari

Dragon Blue

Claire Zicari

Rubeena

Tehreem Waqas Mela

Isaac

Eleanor Stewart

Sunday

Tess Hossman

Adventures of the Church Cookbook and

Carrie Clowers

Jelly Beans

Tehreem Waqas Mela

The Feudal Treatment

Tehreem Waqas Mela

Candid

Tehreem Waqas Mela

Where is Everyone?

Claire Zicari

Healing

Tess Hossman

Eighteen

Carrie Clowers

Seventeen

Carrie Clowers

Dark Illumination

Claire Zicari

Dad in Chalk

Carrie Clowers

Music Box: Happy Birthday

Issy Bohling

Grandma in Chalk

Carrie Clowers

Household Directory

additional photography from Unsplash and Wikimedia Commons

WRITING Zakiya 1/29, 1:19 PM I am so cold quiet i told you that you were my best friend First pap smear Trust Trans Stories Fishtank chalk and cheese G43.711 38 Mastering the Pioneer (and all your) Valley(s) brother, after i left Tadpoles are baby frogs Episode 9 Study A Broad on emotional labor Did you open Dad’s jar last night? Promises Untitled “oh i cum from the future dress”

1 4 5 6 8 9 10 11 11 13 15 17

Ellen Chilemba Meghan Ryan Chloe Martin-Poteet Sarah Dauer Naieka Raj Leah Willingham Ellerie Ballard Brande Neyhard Naieka Raj Molly Thibault Donari Yahzid Leah Willingham

22 23 26 27 30 32 33 34 35

Sarah Dauer Naieka Raj Leah Willingham and Meghan Ryan Rochelle Malter Sarah Dauer Ysabel Lavitz Georgina Hoffman Ellerie Ballard Naieka Raj

E D I T O R’ S N OT E R e a d e r, t h a n k y o u fo r b e i n g h e re . t h i s i s s u e d e a l s w i t h t h e m e s a n d to p i c s t h a t m a y a s k s o m e t h i n g o f y o u . B e p a t i e n t w i t h y o u r s e l f, i t ’s o k a y t o p u t i t d o w n . T h a n k y o u fo r s h o w i n g u p . A r i s t s , t h a n k y o u fo r s h a r i n g y o u r e x p e r i e n c e s a n d w h a t y o u h a v e c re a te d f ro m t h e m . A n d f i n a l l y, S t a f f, w h o to o k t h e t i m e to m a k e this conversation possible: thank you.

ZAKIYA Ellen Chilemba

1:12am and I still haven’t made a move. Most people have dispersed; the waters are calm now and the ducks immobile as they slip into their sleep. Her gaze is set on the luminous portrait of Manhattan. Her dimples on a prolonged visit thanks to my substantial display of discomfort tonight. I count 10 numbers down; at zero I shift a tenth of a step closer. Our arms brush and the hairs on mine rise to attention; embarrassed, I shift back ninetenths. Her dimples sink deeper, amused and gossiping with her eyes. This… is apocalypse. I crumble, while she remains resolute in her peace. Staring far ahead, her pupils choose Brooklyn Bridge. She bites her lower lip. And her pupils choose me. I disintegrate. All my body systems are alerted to… chill. I focus my gaze on Manhattan. She shifts a hundredth of a tenth closer. I focus on Manhattan. She pivots her body toward me. I focus, focus, focus on Manhattan Her breath is sweeping across my ear. Manhattan focus. Focus on Manhattan. Her hand touches mine. My fingers slide into hers. My head falls in. Lips meet. All senses — but one —hush. Blood shoots up my spine. I feel her warmth as my arm draws her in. Through my chest, I hear the drum above her diaphragm. My heart is rising. My neck chained. She pulls away. Eyes awake. Manhattan smiling. Dimples back at it.

Unity

Tess Hossman

Little Drowl (left), Dragon Blue (right) Claire Zicari 3

1/29, 1:19 PM Meghan Ryan just laying in my bed with all these pillows behind me but you know what i love more than pillows Knowledge but i don't do anything about it i don't read a book a day but i do like some lamborghinis

I am so cold Chloe Martin-Poteet The shock of waking up in the middle of a bad dream. That feeling of loss, full of questions and the haze of confusion as the memories slip from your mind without your consent to leave through the holes in your brain, made by the decisions from that night. The wine was as black as the night of that Christmas Eve, as bells chime in the distance and the books you recommend but I’ll never read are stacked on my bedside table. I can’t stop thinking about that night, no matter how few memories were made. I don’t know why or how, but I became a part of a statistic that night. We aren’t on the same page because you were reading a completely different book.

quiet Sarah Dauer cw: sexual assault after you remember smells like raspberry stuck baby feet stained neighborhood during you are tangled hair playing patient; playing doctor for the first time on the basement floor, you imagine he will take care of you so you close your eyes and let him inside of you, and you are small, and you are violets before you are tall enough to remember what summer smells like and the popsicles are raspberry syrup stuck on the roof of your mouth and the soles of your baby feet are stained black from the neighborhood after you are patient for the first time imagine he will care let inside all you are

Rubeena, part of It took a village to raise me

Tehreem Waqas Mela 7

i told you that you were my best friend Naieka Raj i told you that you were my best friend, that you were the Troy to my Gabriela and the Lizzie to my Miranda, i told you that i’d love to go camping in the middle of June when the air is so thick that your fingers would slide off my arm as we played tag, i would’ve rather curled up on a bean-bag and watched Hairspray i screamed when you tried to orphan our snail children by pushing me down the water tower before jumping in after me, i never swam over the whale mural that could come to life at any moment and swallow me whole, but you promised to tickle its uvula, i giggled while rehearsing our choreographed dance routine to “I Kissed a Girl” and i liked it when you punched Laura in the tit after she said i smelt like curry i spent hours picking out the perfect Christmas present even though i didn’t own a Christmas tree, and i tried to understand why my house smelt so different even though it was right across from yours, i always called your parents “uncle” and “aunty” instead of “Mr. and Mrs. Hislop”, and i cried when you told me i had accidentally eaten spare ribs for dinner i sat on the bench and watched you play on the same team as Laura in a ‘bulldogs’ match placing blondes against brunettes, i regret telling you that my mom was visiting her friends in Canada because you didn’t know where i was from, and i. hated. changing my name just so you would remember it.

First pap smear Leah Willingham The doctor starts slowly, first placing her hand on my inner thigh and working her way across my skin until I hear you Let me in for the first time in years Let me in and I wonder why it has taken me so long to realize why I gag sometimes when sliding soap between my lips in the shower and why it pains me to say the word out loud, even now Vagina it is not until today, as I lay trembling on the examination table that I realize I have never known what it feels like to be touched without resisting

Trust Trans Stories Ellerie Ballard Why do you distrust trans people? You think them confused? If your norm is basic All else must be..perversion? Deviation? From what? Humankind is too alive to have a static essence. Take trans people seriously. When was the last time you tried describing your emotions? When was the last time you tried explaining them, Forensically dissecting them, proving them? It is exhausting. Especially when done on the daily, Especially to doctors. Some of our emotions need medical attention. For trans men who want to carry a child, There are few guides, few guidelines. As usual, they must trust their intuition. Unfortunately, intuition is no surrogate for medical school. As usual, we must seek out people who will sign off on our identities, Who will verify it is ok to be our true nature, That we are allowed our medication. We must midwive ourselves, and midhusband. Why are there so few records of our pregnant paternity? It isn’t because we’re new to the scene— We’ve been backstage, hidden from the audience of science. We’ve been denied recognition because it would erase the fictions that have been imposed upon us. Science puts our stories on paper, in measurable ways. We need words and numbers to express This mystic cryptic embodied experience. Trust trans stories— The well -turned details of our reality, Our quick flashcard answers, And our zigzagging tunnel tales Of life in closets and underground, And in masks under the heat of the spotlight— Which are not the kind of operating room we’re asking for When we’re asking for medical attention, When we’re asking you to look at where it hurts. When trans men are asking for a baby, Or for when they ask for the freedom to dismiss one, To cut it loose like a kite So it can land again when it’s their time, Somewhere else, sometime else, someone else. But to either carry or unburden, We must be taken seriously. We must be listened to. We must be believed.

FISHTANK Brande Neyhard My father’s greatest sin isn’t my mother’s beloved fish tank. which he put his fist through it was the blood that he made my little brother Kyle Age 11 clean up.

chalk and cheese Naieka Raj

Every morning you hugged me as I shat/ shitted?/ shit did I really say all those things at a time when I didn’t know that Moscow was the capital of Russia?/ or that living in a pineapple under the sea would cause peduncle leakage?/ in 2004 a major gas leak in Ghislenghien killed 24 sleeping innocents/ the same year you helped me build a fort before getting exiled from my queendom/ I was afraid my disciples would like you more than I/ did not mean for this happen/ I tried to be mean because I made you happy/ too happy, it became a job until I quit/ I quit smiling unless there was good reason but potholes were permanently edged into your cheeks/ “chalk and cheese” mom said but I never understood why cheese would ever want to be chalk/ you kept trying until I threw a rock at your head/ like, literally, I just threw it at your head/ blood and tears were wiped away but “fuck off” left a permanent bruise & I thought about/ small actions making large impacts

Isaac

Eleanor Stewart

G43.711 Molly Thibault The pins and needles come first, Slow and subtle, Like dark clouds rolling in. The paresthesia ascends, Climbing from my lips to my nose to My cheeks and eyes. Hot and sharp and wildly irritating: Scratchy woolen sweaters; the rabid sparks that scorch skin when a 4th-of-July sparkler is held too close; stepping into a scalding shower with winter-frozen feet. Next comes the pain, Not hot but cold and cruel, Like the harsh winter wind slapping your face. It starts at the nape of my neck, Traversing through thick forests of Taut muscles and misfiring nerves, Finding refuge behind one eye Or staking claim to my skull with an unbreakable grasp. Sometimes the throb in my head Echoes the beat of my heart: A harmoniously cacophonous tune; ocean waves crashing against the shore in the midst of a storm; blaring car horns in rush hour city streets. Like the ocean, a cycle. Sometimes the tide stays low and the water is calm, And a green flag hangs from the lifeguard’s chair: The water is safe. Other times, the yellow flag blows in the breeze: A riptide or an undertow hides below the serene surface. Use caution. Sometimes the red flag flaps in the whipping wind: The conditions are too dangerous, Yet I’m stuck out in its depths anyway, fighting a losing battle against howling winds and crashing waves coming in stronger and faster as the tide rises higher and higher, One after another After another after Another-and-another-andanotherand The sky clears and the water calms. I pull myself to shore. I always think I’ll drown. Do I wish I could?

Sunday

Tess Hossman

38 Donari Yahzid The two girls behind Adi on the bus talked about some girl they did not like. The first girl whined about how Soandso did not give her enough attention. How she did not stop by her door late at night to see if she were okay, like this girl would go missing if Soandso did not care to look. Adi thought how desperate it was to want somebody to come and prove that she cared for you, that these girls were stupid for complaining of fighting for a relationship, when they did not know what it was to fight. Words like fighting here had taken the shape of their insignificant users, and had become insignificant themselves. Adi looked around the packed bus, and outside to the misleading brightness of the day, that made it understandable why so many assumed it would be warm. This time, last Friday, Adi had walked amongst college students in basically nothing, because the sun graced February with a record 72 degrees. Now March had come with its right temperature, but confused, the sun chose to show itself without briefing the weather first. Adi looked at the people in the bus, cramped in their seats for two, though the seat next to hers was empty, only because she had laid her belongings on it. Three rows in front, sat a group of South Asians, and it surprised Adi that she had understood some of what they were saying, until she realized that they had been speaking in their now language, but had peppered it with some english words. One, who she believed was named Morrie, she had gone out with her first year in college. Morrie was a friend of a friend, and Adi knew quite quickly, that they would not become friends. Later, when Adi stopped hanging out with the friend that had introduced them, she would think it were better this way, to not have a friend who would be friends with Morrie. “I think the party is in there”, Morrie had said on the night her and Adi had met. “I hear music and there are lights. We should go in and check.” Adi had felt impartial to leave Morrie on this campus and go home and rest. She was tired of chasing a party the was not there. Later that night, when Morrie did not want to be the only one to stay at the party, and they had missed the bus to their campus, Adi thought it unfair to split the cost of a ride for a person she did not like, even if she needed that ride to get home herself. Looking at Morrie now, speaking with other South Asians, Adi was surprised to see that Morrie knew the language. Morrie looked as though being in college would have changed her, and made her forget any other language where it was not acceptable to use like so often. Now Morrie spoke amongst friends, though Adi was not convinced that Morrie had grown up, only that she had realized that it was really hard to be them when you were you. Morrie, was of course, still trying to be them, but on a short bus ride home, she gave in and relaxed. Adi reached for the vanilla yogurt she had left in her bag from lunch, now hungry for a light snack. As she tore back the foil casing, she heard one of the girls behind her mention how her sister would hate if people ate yogurt around her, which made Adi think that it was this girl who hated when people ate yogurt around her. Adi took her time with

her yogurt, pulling the spoon from her mouth in a way that if she had made it noticeable to a man, it would be suggestive, but done when no one paid her any mind, she felt only internally sexy. The girls behind her kept talking. Adi licked her lips like her ex, Malaika, had done, which back then, had taken Adi a while to find irresistible, but once it became so, it stuck. She found herself mimicking that motion from time to time, leaving her tongue on the corner of her mouth for a little too long, just how Malaika would have done if she were lost in thought. Adi became sidetracked by the two girls behind her, still talking about how Soandso was not a true friend. They each took turns explain how Soandso had neglected them when she had other friends to hang out with. Soandso had a quota of friends, and if her quota is filled, she has no time for you. It was crazy, Adi thought, of these girls to complain about someone who she assumed would never take time on a bus to talk about them. These girls were so obviously people who Soandso did not like, and the more they talked, Adi and Soandso bonded over dislike for these two. Once they stopped complaining, one asked the other if they thought Soandso would be down to go to the park and do some light homework, then continued to make plans that used the phrase we, as though Soandso had a greed to light homework, but only after they had brunch, and then after, would go for armwrestling, but she would like that right? Yeah! I’ll ask ask her. Before, they had complained how Soandso had made plans with other people in front of them, but had not invited them to come, and now Adi wondered if it was any better to make plans for Soandso whilst she was completely unaware. The second girl, when asked these questions, uttered a questionable yeah, like she did not believe Soandso would like armwrestling, but she should have thought of the idea first. When they got around to complaining again, they talked about how Soandso only hung out with rich people because they made her look cool. I don’t go around and buy Patagonia and Birkenstocks all the time. Adi loved Patagonia, and her Birkenstocks, but she was not rich. Or maybe she was. But she was not. They talked more about clothes, and Non-Patagonstocks talked about how she bought clothes from the Gap. A gray dress. Adi thought of how she too, bought clothes from the Gap, and pictured a formfitting, but breathable, gray dress that she would not mind buying right now. Non-Patagonstocks kept talking about this dress, but in an uncomfortable way that wanted the second girl to agree with her in her style choices, and the second girl agreed, but did not mean it. Now Non- Patagonstocks was doubting herself, but kept speaking to talk away the awkwardness, and made it seem that a gray dress from the Gap was alright. But it was not alright. It was justified. The two girls kept talking, but Adi’s mind began to drift away around the time she decided that these girls needed this bus ride. That once back on campus, they would fight for Soandso’s friendship, because though Soandso only thought she was great, they believed it. And they would run back to her and hope that she would awaken, and cherish their friendship. Adi could turn around and tell them there was no hope, and that they should just forget Soandso and become friends with each other, but Adi said nothing. She was happy, that though she was alone on a bus, she had no friends that she secretly disliked, and none that would talk about her like this on a bus, where people could hear the conversation and make judgment on her character. Adi rode the bus in peace, and when the two girls stood up to get off at her stop, Adi stayed and rode the bus quietly to the next.

Mastering the Pioneer (and all your) Valley(s) Leah Willingham Some days, when leaving feels impossible, I think about us in our first weeks here, when we would go out for pizza and get caught up in a song that started a conversation lasting for hours. It wouldn’t happen right away, but eventually we’d realize we were miles from where we began, and then have to retrace our movements, turn by turn bend by bend until we arrived home again. Now, I know these parts so well it’s easy to forget I first traveled them with you that I was not born knowing them, but had to memorize every intersection and shortcut through these repetitions of loss and recovery. Some days, a lot more than some, recently, I wish I could just stay with you, in that liminal space between sunset and sunrise, when everyone else was asleep, but we were learning landmarks, street signs and each other, without thinking about where we were going or where we might end up.

Adventures of the Church Cookbook and Household Directory Carrie Clowers

Jelly Beans 19

Tehreem Waqas Mela

The Feudal Treatment

Tehreem Waqas Mela

Candid

Tehreem Waqas Mela

brother, after i left Sarah Dauer i left behind chlorine water i left an outgrown stutter i left you behind i left you to grow taller in the house /with green shutters we were watching people with cold hands, watching us fear the mailbox watching me /leave with my words i left as she will leave oranges, snow globes i left behind space for you to be empty /for you to plant a tree

Tadpoles are baby frogs Naieka Raj …. 4 walls, . 4 walls, .-.. 4 walls, .--. 4 walls,

day 1 daay 2 daayy 3 ddaayy 4

Staring at 4 strings I still can’t play Trapped, but only physically Surfing and Jumping and Laughing and Screaming Things I need to build a house: Plywood and paint and pipes and pray 4 years later, I’m living with my parents I AM free, nothing’s concrete So... maybe I won’t fly to the moon, I see it from my bedroom window Maybe I won’t speak, my voice smells pungent Like a midland water Snake I AM going to swim away Tadpoles are baby frogs Baby frogs grow legs and a belly But what if they don’t hop away ? Do they spend the rest of their lives in water with other tadpoles? No? They Drown.

Where is Everyone? Claire Zicari

Healing 25

Tess Hossman

EPISODE 9

Leah Willingham and Meghan Ryan “Saying goodbye to nick is like My heart is like literally like never going to be repaired. I just want to feel loved the way it’s supposed to be, like the normal way Why can't I just have a normal relationship? I’m trying to you know say things that men think are appropriate And you know what, I’m done done trying to show My men how much I worship them I love them I care for them I support them I need that So if someone feels that way about Me they can come and tell Me and they can bring Me a ring to go along with it I'm done trying to impress these men I'm going to be Me Whatever happens happens But I will never kiss up to a man again in My life I’m tired I'm done I’m done I'm going to sleep...” *sleeps*

Study A Broad Rochelle Malter Kasia, 21 Szukam zony. Dzięki za seks propozycje bajecznych trójkątów, ale NIE.

I am looking for a wife. Thanks for sex proposals fabulous triangles, but NO.

Ania, 19 Opisac siebie w 500 znakow? Nie jest to mozliwe, ale zaznaczam, nie kiedy nie pisze pierwsza, I nie szukam szybkiego seksu, jestem bi

Describe yourself in 500 characters? This is not possible, but I note, not when he writes the first, I’m not looking for quick sex, I’m bi

Ola, 20 Btw wolę psy od kotów, mam cellulit i uważam, ze to synonim kobiecości

Btw dogs than cats, I have cellulite and I think that is synonymous with femininity

Patrycja, 21 nudzi mi się

i’m bored

Eighteen (above), Seventeen (below) Carrie Clowers

Dark Illumination Claire Zicari 29

on emotional labor Sarah Dauer part i: the Moon visits the Earth bc they are sorry i imagine the Moon is a lovely queer, non binary, tenacious, beautiful sinner who pleads to your god to let me love the Love i love; this Earth, this tender sweet grass they are shimmering for us they are glowing their orb body so close to the sweating Earth they are sobbing moon beams to fill us, to revive us, to apologize for sins i helped commit part ii: the Moon visits me in my fever dream i am purple under soft clouds i am lucky charms, & lavender, & i apologize for the lilacs i took from the Earth when she was sleeping, with my safety scissors & feeble hands the Moon is tired for her they are billions of years of excuses, not enough vitamin c, seen too many gods they are smiling into telescopes they are sorry, & they are digging craters while i watch the tide come in

Dad in Chalk, charchoal and chalk Carrie Clowers 31

Did you open Dad’s jar last night? Ysabel Lavitz Because my soul is leaking out of My pores and there’s yours, too, On my Shoulders and a splash On my temple. It’s been a month and a Day, and my mandolin strings Are out of tune. But we are together again. So please breathe and regard the Goldenrod.

PROMISES Georgina Hoffman

Words cracked on chapped lips Prayers between palms and Eyes too empty to open Maps under tired feet Promises on fingers and Secrets hung round necks you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t look much like salvation

Music Box: Happy Birthday Issy Bohling 33

Untitled Ellerie Ballard I make of myself, a secret A floral dress against a floral background If I peeled back the primary layer There would be hundred thousands Of hollows bubbling with green Majestic domestic— I remember when I was thin enough to Challenge myself not to break the top layer Of ice, to not trigger the seatbelt light. The water, the river water Plashed like percolated coffee Under its cleardelicate ceiling of ice. I don’t want you to see me Where I belong It proves the rule, and not the exception. Body being pulled like taffy between decades, genders. I’m sick of being proud in spite of. I could do without your shop talk, teakettle face. I can imagine cuffing your shirts for you and kissing your eyelids and hearing your skinny blue chords full of velvet slink out the kitchen, passing the blown-in curtains, affirming the orange of the light of the window, your sounds prowling like a big cat, the size of a parade float, it’s face moon -shaped and concrete. I can imagine the thickness of your hair and the diamond gusset in your overalls and the height of your laughter and the size of your handprint in the sidewalk. I can imagine you rocketing out of a time capsule, still fresh and warm as a laundered bonnet strapped round a mushy baby noggin. How despicable and delighting It would be to drop From an overhead branch where I’ve been coiled like a Snake, to spook my new love But I won’t Because I do not know If that is a thing done By new or old loves. I do not know if I have permission to scare you. May I employ my secrets which delicately separate us? Oh, are you golden fingers to me now?

“oh i cum from the future dress” Naieka Raj Response to “Impulse Buy” by Franny Choi electric fence dress manicured nails horse teeth how u doin’ let’s leave job money family friends dress been around the world car house no loans dress huggin’ my curves not rolls undercut septum ring plaid shirt dress seen on tv & in book stores saving kids popping bottles of lids yeah i know t. swift dress hug tight shake it like a polaroid & hail mary jane dress i want more but can’t swim deep dress feet on wooden floors or climbing trees masai mara girls in jeeps tres chic badassery breaking locks #mugshot we’d fuck in bathroom stalls dress clocks ticking, time to leave nothing concrete, nothing you need dress.

Grandma in Chalk, charcoal and chalk Carrie Clowers

S taff Editor-in-Chief Katie Clark ’19

Art Editor Emily Conley ’18

Vice-President Dani Planer ’19

Short Fiction Editor Ysabel Lavitz ’20

Treasurer Cameron Graham ’19

General Editors Olivia Arco ’20 Zoë Barnstone-Clark ’19 Sarah Dauer ’20 Beata Garrett ’20 Sarah Lofstrom ’19 Flori Needle ’20 Annabelle Plowden ’20 Emily Williams ’18

Layout Editor Casey Linenberg ’19 Assistant Layout Editor Issy Bohling ’20 Social Chair Salem de Geofroy ’20

C o ntri bu tor Bios Ellerie Ballard ’18, is a writer, musician, and photographer from West Virginia. When not in school as a Frances Perkins scholar, they’re prone to travel, collecting stories of queer resilience, community formation, and plain old emotional vulnerability. Ellerie has a photojournalism career in their sights. Issy Bohling ’20 loves Irish folk music and has always felt very connected to the bumble bee Ellen Chilemba ’17 is a serial social entrepreneur, a DJ, a strange artist, and a gardener with a big fat green thumb. She recently started writing and isn’t stopping anytime soon. Sarah Dauer ’20 really likes the moon. Ysabel Lavitz ’20 misses Kentucky but won’t write a song about it. Rochelle Malter ’18 loves God. Chloe Martin-Poteet is probably watching the sunrise right now.

Brande Neyhard is a Frances Perkins Scholar. She loves how capers look like tiny dinosaur eggs on the outside, and like spooky alien embryos on the inside. She is not, however, especially fond of their taste. Tehreem Mela ’20 is a Politics and Art Studio double major from Lahore, Pakistan. She loves oranges. Naieka Raj ’19 likes tripping & hates falling. She is not a poet. Meghan Ryan ’17 thanks Jacob Ryan and Corinne Olympios for all content. Molly Thibault ’17 recently realized that her story is worth sharing. Donari Yahzid ’19 The Real Deal Holyfield Clare Zicari ’19 is an English major, avid listener of Welcome to Night Vale, lover of a good Terry Pratchett book, and incessant drawer of dragons.

Moneta: The Art and Literary Journal of Mount Holyoke College

Spring 2017 Like us on Facebook: facebook.com/monetalitmag Follow us on Twitter @Monetamhc Email us at moneta.mhc@gmail.com