MONTAGE.
montage . literar y & art journal fall 2019 zine || volume 3
Staff Co-Editors-in-Chief Joelle Gray & Nina Leopold Journal Design Joelle Gray Kiana Arevalo Petrina Robinson Cover Art Shikha Shah Content Panel Kiana Arevalo Glenna Gobeil Katherine Iorio Nina Leopold Greta Stroebel
Ian Addison Joelle Gray Genesis Iscoa Petrina Robinson Steven Tarnok
Advisor Samantha Bashaw
About Montage Montage is Quinnipiac University’s student-run literary and arts journal. Our purpose is to celebrate the students who create art in any and every form. We promote the growth of writers and artists on campus and provide an outlet for those who wish to share their work. We seek art that pushes boundaries, is unique, and is inspiring. For student creators, we host a series of literary- and arts-centered events, such as open mics and faculty workshops. We produce two publications a year that are filled with student-made work. These help encourage the creative energy at Quinnipiac University that Montage hopes to foster for future generations.
An Editors’ Note Welcome to Montage’s 2019 fall ‘zine! We are beyond excited to share the this publication and the hard work that has gone into it with all of you. We’d like to take this space to give some thanks, specifically to our lovely content panel, our talented contributors, and our incomparable advisor, Sam. We couldn't have done it without all of your unwaivering support. See you in the spring! Your co-editors, Joelle and Nina
montage.
TABLE OF CONTENTS 8
The Girl in Red Shikha Shah || Digital Art
9
I don’t wear lipstick anymore Kiana Arevalo || Poetry
10 Whore Unsp0ken Truth || Poetry 10
If She Begins to Walk Away Ashley Collins || Poetry
11
Death Blossom Ian Addison || Photography
12
Eye of the Storm Brantley Boyda || Poetry
13
Late at Night Kiara Tanta-Quidgeon || Poetry
14
The Usual Jennifer Charette || Poetry
15
Placing Blame Ashley Collins || Prose
16 Precipice Jennifer Rondinelli || Photography 17
Breathtaking View Marianna Rappa || Photography
18 Pinocchio Unsp0ken Truth || Poetry
19
Blue Eyes Shikha Shah || Drawing
20
The Phone Call Gabriella D’Annunzio || Play
31
i think i like it here Ruby Rosenwasser || Photography
32
Studying Abroad Corey Windham || Prose
33
Prince Street Ian Addison || Photography
34
Broken and Silent Brantley Boyda || Poetry
36 august Ruby Rosenwasser || Photography 37
Alan Kurdi Skylar Haines || Poetry
The Girl in Red Shikha Shah 8
I don’t wear lipstick anymore Kiana Arevalo I used to wear red pigment like an armor to reflect the blood I would otherwise bleed if someone were to discover my vulnerability. Red makes me powerful. It is the color of fire. Fire burning in my body that would otherwise hurt, but it cannot compare to the pain I’ve already felt. It has become a part of me; a mask to emulate the confident beauty that I claim. I do not hide behind it, but rather I display it. You recoil from my crimson lips as if the blood is somehow yours and I’ve taken it without your knowledge, just like you’ve taken my logic and suffocated it. You treat it as a mark of shame, a brand placed by my hot iron. Because if someone sees the red flower illustrated on your ivory skin, they’ll know you succumbed to desire. So, you carefully erase me from the skin that was so eager to meet mine and have the audacity to ask me to double check. Is it gone? Is it gone? Are you gone? If I carried that red stain, you’d refuse to kiss me and soft kisses seemed better in comparison to decorating my naked mouth alone in front of the bathroom mirror. But, I didn’t realize that the true price I was paying wasn’t the loss of a common feminine practice, often looked down upon. What I gave up for you was myself.
9
Whore Unsp0ken Truth Worth more then they will ever know. Heart purer than they will ever see. “Oh, you stomped on it, but I’m heartless? Right…worthless unless I make you…” Eventually we all succumb to public perception.
If She Begins to Walk Away Ashley Collins And if she begins to walk away, She is not begging you to chase her. Each step she takes to widen the distance is not a plea for you catch her wrist. Those who told you to kiss her when she’s mad, Lied to you. Those who told you she will storm out to make a point Didn’t have a clue. If she begins to walk away, There’s nothing left for you to say. Do not make her feel guilty for wanting more for herself. Do not beg her to stay. A woman with a made-up mind is the most powerful thing in the world, so stop calling her baby girl. Stop calling her altogether and don’t write either. She is more than the over-romanticized metaphor of your love letter. She deserves more than anything you could’ve given her. And if she begins to walk away, It’s because she knows this. 10
Death Blossom Ian Addison
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The Eye of the Storm Brantley Boyda When you found me, I was a little bit broken and very much lost. Isolated by my past And trapped amidst my emotions. I was in a maelstrom that no one else could see. The words of my mind howled louder than the words of others, While my fear drowned out any attempts to break free. I was on a paper life raft in a stormy sea, When you cut through my thoughts and fears With an outstretched palm, A lifeline from my personal storm. You were the calm, the eye of the storm In the coming months. Together, we made my flimsy raft become a sturdy boat, Able to weather any tempest life would throw. Even when my boat threatened to tip As the barrage of words came back. And water crashed over the edges While tears spilled down my face. You still found me among the maelstrom, Cutting through with an outstretched palm. When you found me, I was a little bit broken and very much lost. Now I can navigate the sea And weather the storm, Because of you.
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Late at night Kiara Tanta-Quidgeon Late at night I think of you. I think of who I thought you were who you proved not to be. I think of your hands how could something so soft and warm hurt so badly. I think of your voice so smooth and calming until it’s buried in my head remind ing me of how worthless I am. I think of your smile the same person who could light up a room could send fear racing through me with just one glance. Late at night I think of you and you haunt me. I will not be a slave to the fear you have inflicted. I will not be forever broken by the ways you have hurt me. I will not be scared forever. One day I will be free free of the memories, pain, and fear. One day I will be free free of all that you have done to me. One day I will be free free of you. One day love will heal me love will heal me just as easily as my love for you broke me. One day love will teach me love will teach me to ignore your voice slamming against my skull telling me I am not and will not ever be enough. One day love will help me love will help me find faith in happy endings, hope for the future, and light in life. One day I won’t think about you I won’t think about you late at night anymore. Until then, Here is what I think about late at night. Here are pieces of my heart splattered on this document Unfinished thoughts that keep me up at night Here is where they lay. For now. Until “one day” comes. 13
The Usual Jennifer Charette
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Placing Blame Ashley Collins I don’t blame you for keeping secrets. How do you tell someone “I don’t love you anymore” when you’re already 500 miles away anyway? You don’t. Well, you don’t have to. I don’t blame you for thinking you didn’t have to. I don’t blame you for always wanting more for me; that is, physically. You see, no one settle for the triangle after hearing the whole symphony. And maybe that’s why when I was looking for a composer you were looking for a one hit… wonder why you haven’t called. I wonder why you haven’t written. I don’t blame you for my empty mailbox because I didn’t really expect there to be anything here and I know you’re writing letters it’s just not my name that follows the word “dear." And I do not blame you for each and every tear. Maybe just the first few. Maybe soon I will forget about the ones after you let me keep saying “I miss you” while you were already saying it to someone new. I do not blame you for the lies. Afterall, it’s my fault for mistaking them for lullabies. Forget about the bees, nothing stings worse than the butterflies. It’s my fault for being so captivated in your eyes that I ignored all the warning signs. I do not blame you for returning to the one you loved before me. Maybe with familiarity comes security. And how can I blame you for the texts that read, “I will always come back to you Ashley. Don’t worry.”
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Precipice Jennifer Rondinelli
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Breathtaking View Marianna Rappa
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Pinocchio Unsp0ken Truth I’m not saying you’re a puppet Hell, you were never even mine. Nevertheless, like him, we had strings that remain tied. So I put us in a box and let the dust start to build. Time apart Straightened our strings. After a while, I brushed the dust off And reopened that box. Pinocchio is a real boy And us…something new. Closer, but distant The same, yet different. As if Prince Phillip was asleep, our roles somehow switched. As my feelings faded, your feelings slowly grew. You may be on my mind, but you ran from my heart. So, let’s put on a show Unless… Am I now in yours?
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Blue Eyes Shikha Shah
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The Phone Call Gabriella D’Annunzio Characters Jake Sullivan, twenty-four-year-old working at a call center. Darleen Jones, a fifty-three-year-old woman wearing a turtleneck and frameless glasses.
(There is a divider in the middle of the stage. Only the left side is lit, showing Jake sitting at a cubicle in front of a computer, wearing a headset.) JAKE Hello, Mr. Arevalo? This is Jake Sullivan calling on behalf of PHOP— People Helping Other People—and I do just have to let you know this call is being recorded for quality and training purposes. We’re reaching out today with a quick one question survey. When was the last time you helped someone? (pauses) Mr. Arevalo? Are you there? (Clicks a key on his keyboard, hanging up.) Shit. If I don’t get someone to give money by the end of shift, I’m toast. How much time is left? (Looks at the clock.) Only ten minutes? Okay, Jake. Think of Sarah. You promised her that dream wedding! I don’t care if the next person who picks up the phone is Oliver Twist. They’re giving. (Jake looks at his computer screen. Dials a number.)
(We hear a phone ringing. The lights on the right side of the stage turn on. Mrs. Jones chops vegetables in her mint green kitchen. She stops chopping after a few rings and picks up the phone.) Hello? Hi, Mr. Jones! 20
MRS. JONES JAKE
MRS. JONES Mrs. Jones. Mr. Jones is my husband. Who is this? JAKE Sorry about that, Mrs. Jones. I didn’t hear you pick up. This is Jake Sullivan calling on behalf of PHOP—People Helping Other People—and I do just have to let you know this call is being recorded for quality and training purposes. We’re reaching out today with a quick one question survey. When was the last time you helped someone? Yesterday, I think.
MRS. JONES
JAKE So you don’t remember, then? Because if not I— MRS. JONES No, it was definitely yesterday. I helped my husband with his… JAKE With his what? You cut out there for a second. I paused.
MRS. JONES
JAKE Don’t want to say, huh? That’s okay. I love your answer because it means there’s room for help to be had today. Here at PHOP— MRS. JONES How did you get this number? JAKE We have the numbers of every person who’s donated to organizations like ours before. MRS. JONES (She paces around her kitchen.) Of course you do. And what kind of people are you raising money for? 21
All kinds of people, ma’am.
JAKE
MRS. JONES (She stops pacing.) I mean who specifically are you raising money for? All kinds of people could just be what you say to steer me away from thinking you’re pocketing the money you get. How do I know this isn’t some scam? JAKE We have a lot of precautions we take here at PHOP to make sure your money is safe, which I will touch on later. But first, I’ll tell you a little more about our organization. I say all kinds of people because the organization we’re raising money for constantly changes, depending on who needs it most. Right now we’re raising money for anti-vaxxers’ medical bills. The largest donation we’ve received today was a very generous one hundred and fifty dollars. Do you think you could push and do the same amount tonight Mrs. Jones? MRS. JONES One hundred and fifty dollars?! I don’t have that kind of money to just throw around. JAKE I completely understand, Mrs. Jones. We know not everyone can donate at that level. We like to aim high and hope someone can do it, but we do have lower levels. It’s just that these children are dying, Mrs. Jones. They’re getting preventable diseases. They’re being forced to use essential oils! MRS. JONES It’s not that I don’t want to donate. It’s that I can’t. Money is tight right now. JAKE If anyone understands money being tight it’s me. I promised my fiancée she’d get her dream wedding. And she has expensive taste: celeste table linens, handmade soaps for the party favors— 22
MRS. JONES I feel bad hanging up on you. I just— JAKE And we promised our mothers we’d have an open bar! MRS. JONES I just can’t give today! You should try calling someone else. JAKE
(He stands up.) With all due respect, Mrs. Jones, would you rather we pay these children’s medical bills or the cost of their funerals? I know you said you couldn’t do the hundred fifty, but what about a hundred dollars? MRS. JONES Did you not hear what I said? Money is tight right now. Really, really tight. And I don’t appreciate your guilt tripping me. You act like you’re passionate about this cause, but I don’t see you doing anything. So you make these phone calls? Good for you. But are you actually reaching out to these children? Will you be inviting them to the wedding? These are things I need to know. And another thing—you say they’re things you do to ensure my trust, and yet, I know nothing about you. JAKE I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
(He leans up against the side of his cubicle.)
How old are you? Twenty-four.
MRS. JONES JAKE
MRS. JONES (walks over to and sits at her computer) And what’s your name again? Jake what? 23
Jake Sullivan. Anything else? (pauses) Mrs. Jones? Are you still there?
JAKE
MRS. JONES (She types his name into her computer.) Yes, sorry. I was just looking you up online. JAKE You were looking me up online? MRS. JONES Still looking, actually. Not many people can rock a speedo like that. JAKE I’m flattered, Mrs. Jones, I truly am. But we have to focus on the matter at hand. These children have no choice. We want to give them that choice. We want them to be able to decide for themselves! What about a modest fifty dollars? It really would go a long way. It would cover about two percent of a single child’s medical bills. MRS. JONES Modest? I’m on a fixed income. I don’t like telling people this, but you seem like a really great guy, so I will. I just found out my dog has cancer. It’s treatable with surgery, but it’s going to be a lot of money. I care about your cause, I really do, but I have to put my Skippy first. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jones.
JAKE
MRS. JONES I think you’ve earned the right to call me Darleen. That’s my first name. JAKE Okay, Darleen. How old is Skippy? 24
He just turned ten.
MRS. JONES
JAKE What a great age. And what kind of dog is he? MRS. JONES The best kind of dog. He’s like a son to me. We eat together, watch television together, sleep together. Mr. Jones bought him for me for my 43rd birthday. He sounds perfect. He is perfect.
JAKE MRS. JONES
JAKE So you said he’s like a son to you…? Let’s do a little imagining here then. Say little Skippy really was a boy. A human boy. And instead of having cancer, you just found out he has polio. Wouldn’t you wish you could have prevented that? Yes…
MRS. JONES
JAKE Well that’s exactly what we’re doing here at POHP—helping little boys and girls like Skippy! MRS. JONES You know what, Jake…I never thought about it like that… So you’ll give?
JAKE
MRS. JONES Money is just as tight as it was a few minutes ago. I can’t do the fifty.
25
JAKE We actually have even lower levels. Like my grandmother always said, if everyone chips in a little, we’ll end up with a whole lot! MRS. JONES That’s a nice sentiment and all, but I’m just not sure… JAKE (Stands up straight.) Darleen, please. I never get this personal over the phone but this phone call is my last chance. I haven’t been making my numbers. One donation for every tenth person who picks up the phone— How ridiculous is that? And if I don’t get a donation by the end of shift, I’ll be fired. MRS. JONES You’re not pulling my leg here, are you, Jakey Boy? If I don’t donate, you’ll really be fired? JAKE I would never. Not to you, Darleen. (He looks back over his shoulder.) In fact, my boss is staring at me as we speak. MRS. JONES Alright, fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll do ten dollars. JAKE Perfect! Will that be VISA, MasterCard, American Express, or Discover? MRS. JONES None of the above. Although I’ve grown to really trust you, I don’t give out my credit card information over the phone. It’s kind of like my mantra. JAKE I understand why you’re skeptical to give over the phone. But, like I said—
26
No.
MRS. JONES
JAKE —we do a lot of things to make our clients feel comfortable with MRS. JONES Nope. JAKE —donating over the phone. First of all, we do not ask for the three-digit security code on the back of your card. That is your digital signature— MRS. JONES I said I’m not comfortable with that. (Looks offstage.) Oh, fucking hell! Skippy peed on the rug. JAKE Oh no! I’m sorry about that. But let me just finish my spiel. Just to get your mind off of the stain you’ll be getting out in about a minute… That is your digital signature, meaning if you had any doubts you’d just call your credit card company and they’d be able to reverse the charge immediately. We also send you a receipt with our full tax ID number in the mail. MRS. JONES In the mail, you say? In that case, I’d like you to send me something! JAKE A receipt in the mail after you pay by credit card, right? MRS. JONES No. A way I can donate via mail. JAKE We can send you a pledge card, and that’s not a problem, but gifts given over the phone via credit card process a lot faster. And to be honest, we’re trying to save paper. You know, for the trees. 27
MRS. JONES First it’s save the anti-vaxx kids, now its save the trees? You’re People Helping Other People, not People Helping Trees. Do you want my ten dollars or not? Send me the pledge card, Jake. JAKE Okay, Darleen. Sorry about that. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of all your options. Now let’s confirm your address. (clicks a few buttons on his keyboard.) Are you still at 105 Flower Drive, Charlton MA, 01507? MRS. JONES No, I recently moved. I’m now at 107 Flower Drive. The rest is the same. Okay. Let me just put that in.
JAKE
MRS. JONES (Walks back over to her kitchen counter, cradling her phone between her shoulder and her ear. She resumes chopping her vegetables.) You better not show up at my house! Unless you want to, that is. I’m making dinner right now. You like beef stew? JAKE I love beef stew. That’s actually the soup we ended up choosing for the wedding. Unfortunately, you’re a little too far for me. MRS. JONES Speaking of the wedding, will I be getting an invite? JAKE
(laughing) Okay, Darleen. I might consider inviting you and the mister if you do one thing for me. Would you consider adding two dollars and nineteen cents to your donation, signifying the work we’re doing in 2019?
28
MRS. JONES What the hell! Bump it up to two dollars and fifty cents. Signifying the little kiddies making it to see the year twenty fifty. JAKE (He types into his computer, changing the amount.) You’re very generous, Darleen. MRS. JONES You tell that boss of yours that Mrs. Jones said you’re the best damn telephone fundraiser I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to. I’ll tell him myself if I have to. JAKE As much as I appreciate that, it won’t be necessary. These calls are recorded for my quality, remember? MRS. JONES That’s perfect then. It was very nice talking to you. Now, I should probably get back to my stew. JAKE Goodbye, Mrs. Jones. And remember to send that pledge card back as soon as possible! Goodbye, Jake. I will! (She hangs up.)
MRS. JONES
The lights on the left side of the stage—Jake’s side—go out.
MRS. JONES What a nice young man. Too bad he was dumb enough to fall for all that Mrs. Jones crap! And what kind of idiot names their dog Skippy? Dying dog, I mean. I don’t know where that pledge card is going, but it’s not gonna be here! The lights on her side of the stage go out. The lights on Jake’s side of the stage come back on.
29
JAKE (He packs up his station, turning off the computer and hanging up his headset.) (Sadly to himself.) Oh Mrs. Jones‌if only you had committed to a credit card donation and not a pledge card, I wouldn’t have gotten fired. (He pushes in his chair and walks offstage.) The lights go out.
30
i think i like it here Ruby Rosenwasser
31
Studying Abroad Corey Windham breaths is it safe there.am i ever safe anywhere.i know some countries arent that diverse but i should be good right.are people racist there.thats stupid racism is everywhere.you can never escape that.but it’s different when you aren’t expecting it.i swear to god if someone tries calling me that word im gonna fuck them up. but i don’t know the laws there. what if i get arrested.you saw what happened to asap.fuck that.I’d really get sent back if someone tries me.i don’t actually know what i would do in that situation.oh my god I’ll be the only black person there. breaths I’m overthinking everything everyone loves going abroad and it will be an amazing experience.then again everyone who i’ve asked has been white but what does that have to do with anything.everything.oh my god im gonna need a haircut.who the fuck is gonna cut my hair.i mean i could go to london they have a black population there so i should be fine.but whos gonna be paying to go to london for a haircut every 3 weeks not me.it may be me.alright i guess i could go once a month so that’s only 4 trips to london.i’ll just do that then. breaths how am i going to fit all my clothes in two suitcases for 4 months.i have way too many shoes to do that.maybe i’ll just take neutral clothes so I could wear the same 3 pieces in 30 different ways. but everything needs to match and neutral clothes aren’t cool enough.but i was told that people in europe don’t wear bright colors that much anyway.i dont wanna stick out that much.i’ll already be sticking out im black.actually.why would i wanna be like everybody else.what a waste of a life.i’ll be damned if my shoes don’t match my fit. breaths. 32
Prince Street Ian Addison
33
Broken and Silent Brantley Boyda You sit with so much power in your hands, Able to control fate it seems. Yet all you do is sit and stare, With a closed mouth that emits no sound And observant eyes that have seen everything. I’m aware that you know, I experienced it and you saw it. Yet why did you never utter, or even speak A phrase, or even a word? You have a voice that seems to have faded. Lost in the fear like mine was. Like mine was, For I had to reclaim it, In order to save myself In the absence of yours. And here I am now, Bathed in the light at the end of the tunnel While every day still looking over my shoulder in fear, From the nightmares that still chase me. Asking, why did you never use your voice? You had the power in your hands, Able to control my fate. Yet all you did was sit and stare, With a closed mouth and observant eyes. You could have saved me from the years of darkness, Prevented the scars on my heart, And soothed my nightmares. I saw a look many times in your eyes, One of hesitance, Your body was half-risen as if to intervene, However, something always stopped you. 34
And here I am now, Bathed in the light at the end of the tunnel While every day still looking over my shoulder in fear, From the nightmares that still chase me. Asking, what stopped you? Is it because once upon a time, we both occupied the same role? Both of us the victim to our villain, Where they beat the voice out of you a long time ago?
35
august Ruby Rosenwasser
36
Alan Kurdi Skylar Haines You have one ear tilted towards the sky so you can hear heaven’s call, but the other ear remains pressed into the ground because you will never stop hearing the rattle of barrel bombs causing the world to shake or the waves of the Mediterranean Sea washing away the bomb-shells. Your arm presses into the pebbles and empty scallops, as your left palm lies open. What are your reaching for? You’ve made it Alan. You made it. Was it all that you thought it would be, troops welcoming you to shore with blankets and formaldehyde? Your small body is inflated with swallowed sea salt, but your mother would say she would rather have thrashing waves fill your lungs than tear gas invade them. There wasn’t a drop of blood when they found you because your blood never had the chance to flow. Life was taken from you, with the war sirens blaring the moment you entered this world. Your exit, was heard everywhere. All those you lost in Syria- they are buried deep in the soil among wreckage, but you are still above lying in the beauty of beach tides and the shutters of light. 37
They try to capture you, bend cameras toward your toes pointing still toward the ocean, but you are rushed away with other bodies quickly, like the 5 minutes you were on that boat. 5 minutes. But you still made it, Alan. You made it.
38