Drained

Maia Kohlmann

Where are you?

Will our gazes be cast on the same moon tonight?

Laid out, lonely on rigid rooftops, Humming a desolate tune tonight.

Vision absorbed by the endless galaxy, Only the stars reflect in our eyes tonight.

Blaring music, from cars driving by, Muffling our secret cries tonight. Trickling tears, taste salty upon lips, As our withering souls slowly die tonight.

The Man and the Deer

See the Stars

Hailey Chin

Every night the stars blinding, shining, always there coat the sky abovea vast speckled canvas.

Bright, moving swiftly, the rapid comets traverse the galaxy where once lay constellations, clear as day. Connect the dots they fade, only a glimpse left behind-and then caught out of the corner of my eye scattered yet idle amongst the empty void of nothingness a shadow with faint figure.

Every night, blinding, shining, merely there the morning awakens night disappears.

The Young Woman

If I Tell Them, Will They Understand?

Skylar Henderson

If I tell them,

Will they understand?

Why I smile

To give others the happiness

You once gave me.

Why my gleaming eyes

Reflect yours

Which glistened in the summer sun.

Will they understand - that I live because you cannot.

Sunset

We Named Him Theodore

Hazel Haskovec

We glide soundlessly across the water, small ripples emanating from where our now-still oars last touched it. I look past her shoulder to the distorted reflection of trees on the glassy surface of the lake. As I dip my fingers in to disrupt the illusory mirror I hear an indignant hum, and a bullet flies toward my face. I pull back, and he does too, all eyes all blue as he holds there in the air. I look away to her face of surprise, and he’s already buzzed off. I have offended him, I think. Our hushed voices are the only sound until a harsh hum returns along with its source, the same cerulean dragonfly. His ears must be burning if he has them, we’ve been talking about him. Maybe that’s why he has returned, or maybe we’ve baffled him. We ungraceful creatures shouldn’t be here when the sun has only just kissed the treetops and the lake’s still swathed in mist. Can one baffle a dragonfly? Whatever the case, he noticed us, and came back to our canoe after each looping lap across the lake. As the notion of time passing licks softly at our feet we propel ourselves with paddles, and he follows. There is a long pause while we coast as he floats, hesitates, and decisively shoots off, a blue bullet, then a speck, then nothing at all. The lake has a hum to it now that I never noticed before. Just another hum in the orchestra of early morning.

Cloudy Night

Generosity Samas colored pencil