The Lambrequin University Liggett S c h o o l 2015-2016
1
University Liggett SchooL THE
Lambrequin VolumE 1
University Liggett School
Best in... awards Prose, Fiction Tour Guides comic book by Carissa Knickerbocker ‘16 page 1 and available online Poetry “Dominoes” by Emma Streberger ‘17 page 28 Prose, Nonfiction “How to Shakespeare” by Emma Streberger ‘17 page 7 Photography Pathway to Success by William Higbie ‘19 page 22 Art, Non Photography Endangered Species Series by Anna Majewski ‘16 Turtle on following pages; Tyger page 5
cover art
Lonely as a Cloud Lily Xu ‘19 Acrylic paint collage
2
The Lambrequin 2016
School address: 1045 Cook Rd. Grosse Pointe Woods, MI 48236 School phone: 1 (313) 884-4444 Head of School: Dr. Joseph P. Healey Head of Upper School: Mr. Peter Gaines
Color Wheel
Delaney Bandos ‘18 Acrylic paint
3
University Liggett School
Letter from the Moderator & Editor This is the first issue of Liggett’s literary and art magazine The Lambrequin. Just as a lambrequin is the decorative scarf worn by a knight on his helmet, our publication aims to be an artistic accessory to our school’s metaphorical helmet of academic and athletic success. Since this is our first publication, it was at times fraught with worries: Would we receive enough submissions? Would the student body be interested? Why did none of the artists initially title their art? How will we possibly create this with only one copy of InDesign? As we asked for and assembled submissions, the daunting task ahead left us with many doubts and questions. We went into this with an open mind, without a set theme or design picked out. We chose content before we determined the theme. If you ask for any and everything, then that’s what you will get. We started by pairing artwork with writing. What we found cropping up, again and again, was the self—and the self in relationship to other people, to the city, and to nature. That is how we have organized our content. Some pieces are light-hearted, some are quite dark. All reflect the creativity, varied experiences, observations, and imaginations of our upper school body. Whether you submitted a piece of music, poem, photograph, painting, ceramic, drawing or story, we want to thank every single one of you. (And many of you artists who didn’t initially submit but gave permission when we asked). We could not include every piece you sent, as much as we wish we could have, but we are grateful to have read each poem and story that came to our inbox. We offer this up to you, our reading public, and hope that you enjoy it.
Elizabeth Wagenschutz, moderator Mission Statement The Lambrequin was developed to showcase the talent of Liggett upper school and to provide an outlet for students to express themselves through visual art, photography, poetry, short story, and music. We look for creative works that capture those unexpected, often overlooked moments in life that jolt us into a new sense of awareness, and transform our community. 4
Editorial Board Policies Submissions are accepted throughout the first three quarters of the year; all students are welcome to submit, and students in related classes (Craft of Writing, Advanced Art, Music Theory) are required to submit their works. Submissions are read and chosen by the editorial staff. All students in the upper school are welcome to join the editorial staff.
Editorial Staff Faculty Advisors: Ms. Elizabeth Wagenschutz Ms. Jennifer Gaye Editor-in-Chief: Julia Zehetmair Assistant Editor: Brooke Hudson Staff Readers: India Brooks Holland Egypt Brooks McClinton Jovana Emma Djokovic Streberger William Higbie Lina Tate Keri IngeKat Tolin Marshall
Julia Zehetmair, EIC Colophon Published spring 2016 by by InPrint Graphics in Oak Forest, Illinois 125 copies were printed for the Upper School and distributed on a limited, first-choice basis Typeface throughout is Cardo size 10. Title font is Ten O Clock; cover & headings are in Impact Label & DK Plakkaat. Magazine is printed on 80# velvet paper, cover 100# velvet. The magazine is designed on Adobe InDesign; images are edited on Adobe Photoshop.
The Lambrequin 2016
Turtle
Anna Majewski ‘16 Acrylic paint
5
7......................How to Shakespeare / Emma Streberger 18.......................My Favorite Thing / Evan Marquardt *20.......On Finishing a Video Game / Emma Streberger 25......................................Companion / Emma St. John
Prose/Fiction
*1............................Tour Guides / Carissa Knickerbocker 32................Flying Chamelons / Caroline Caramagno 36..................................G-Woman / Sasha Jovanovski 42......Change of Circumstance / Carissa Knickerbocker
Colin McCann ‘18 Ceramic
6
4..........................A Description of... / Sarah Galbenski 8.............................Is this writing? / Christian deRuiter 10.........Kim Kardashian Has Drowned / Tamara Ajjour 13.................................The Middle / Evan Marquardt 14........................................I Tell Myself / Dan Qiao 16.............................How I Perform / Jovana Djokovic 23......................Ode to My Parents / Jovana Djokovic 27................What Would be Different? / Nick Brusilow *28................................Dominoes / Emma Streberger 31......................................Second Chances / Lina Tate 34.........................................You Are / Nicholas Rivera 35.............................World of Broken Glass / Lina Tate 40.........................Shadow Puppet / Nathan J. Manalo 47...........................Scenes of the City / Santo Scarfone 48..............How the Other Half Lives / Lauren Porter 51........................Three Urban Scenes / Skye Vreeken 51..................................Mad Libs for... / Saudia Tate 52..................................In the Woods / Sophia Kopicki 54...........................Angelic Fires / Keri Inge-Marshall 57....................................The Mountain / Henry Wujek 58.....................Driving Without Seatbelts / Kat Tolin 59.....................A Cold Acquaintance / Nicholas Rivera 62..................................Avian Flew / Nathan J. Manalo 65.........................................................Fear / Kaitlin Lee 66.........................After Last Chair / Christian deRuiter
Little Willy
University Liggett School
Poetry
The Lambrequin 2016
table of contents
Prose/Nonfiction
Music, Film, Photography & Art
Twilight Zone
Tyler Daar ‘18 Film photography
Through the Mist
William Higbie ‘19 Digital photography
Lily Xu / Lonely as a Cloud...................................cover Delaney Bandos / Color Wheel.....................title page *Anna Majewski /Turtle.....................................colophon / Tyger.........................................................5 / Anna........................................................26 / Broken Glass Triptych..........................34 *Carissa Knickerbocker / Tour Guides.......................1 Nick Brusilow/ Io.....................................................1 *William Higbie / Painting the Town......................1 / Moon Walker...........................................12 / Pathway to Sucess....................................22 / All Roads Lead to Somewhere................45 / Like Father Like Son..............................69 Olivia Ponte / Chasing Cars..................................1 Alison Lilla / Silent Night........................................2 George Gotfredson / O Holy Night........................3 Brooke Hudson / Organized Chaos........................6 Portillo & Whitaker / Dequindre Cut 1....................9 / Dequindre Cut 2........................................9 Natalia AliAhmad / <BOOM>...............................14 / Glass Half Triptych.................................34 Emma Leonard / Fractured....................................10 Keri Inge-Marshall / Glass Mosaic.......................17 Abby Hung / Glass Mosaic.....................................17 John Elmer / Glass Mosaic......................................17 Santo Scarfone / Glass Mosaic................................17 Saudia Tate / Telephone Tower..............................18 / Misplaced Jewels......................................24 Izzy Brusilow / Ocean Vines....................................20 Rebecca Lohman / Paper Flowers..........................29 Lucy Mott / Self Portrait #38...................................30 / Faces..........................................41 Holland McClinton / Iris..........................................33 / Birds [a series]....................................60-62 Theodore Wujek / Peek-a-boo...............................36 Cassie Zeng / Pop Can Triptych............................39 / Coins........................................................70 Zahra Khan / Space Hands.......................................41 Hope Kulka / Findulias...........................................42 Alec Azar / Masonic Temple...................................50 Kaniz Chowdhury / The weather was so cold........53 Julia Zehetmair / Equilateral.....................................55 / Mountains................................................56 Emily Miserendino / Abandoned.............................58 / Probabilistic Ways...................................67 Morgan Connell / Untitled......................................63 Ivy Meraw / (De)Composition................................64 7 Allison Cobb / Untitled.....................inside back cover
Other media submissions Carissa’s entire comic book, as well as the song and videos on the facing page, are available for reading, listening and viewing enjoyment through the school portal, Whipple Hill. Look for the group The Lambrequin (all students are already members).
Io
Nick Brusilow ‘17 Original Piano Composition
Painting the Town: The Street Art of Detroit
William Higbie ‘19
University Liggett School
Documentary
8
I have no idea how the melodies for this song came to me, though the four chord progressions are adapted from different songs which I then put together mathematically. Statement from the director: This film explores the tension between artist and money. I’m interested in artists’ explanations of the dilemma they experience interacting with the walls in Detroit, as well as exploring how street artists specifically can make money in Detroit. They are some of the many people helping to create and tell Detroit’s next chapter.
Carissa Knickerbocker ‘16 Comic boaok Ink and colored pencils
The Lambrequin 2016
Statement from the director: It’s a known fact that this generation is dependent upon our phones, including myself. The problem is when we try to multitask. Driving requires undivided attention, yet so many people think they can use their phones at the same time. My goal for this video was to show people that an accident can happen to anyone in the blink of an eye.
Chasing Cars Olivia Ponte ‘19 PSA video
1
Upper School Music Theory Holiday Carol Arrangement Project Music Theory students were challenged to create an original composition of a holiday song. The goal of this project was to expand knowledge and demonstrate what they had learned throughout the course. Only the first page of each arrangement is included here.
University Liggett School
Alison Lilla â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;17 For my arrangement, I chose "Silent Night" by Franz Gruber because it is both a beautiful and understated piece. I used three saxophones: the baritone, tenor, and alto. Instead of the standard saxophone quartet, I chose to add the bassoon as the bass, and moved the saxophones up so that the alto sax became the solo part, instead of the traditional soprano saxophone. I did this with our band in mind, as we have an excellent bassoonist and an accomplished alto saxophonist. This arrangement was interesting because it allowed a new take on a classic song.
George Gotfredson â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 My chosen piece was "O Holy Night." We then composed a new arrangement making the holiday tune unique in our own way. We were able to select which instrument(s) to feature in our compositions. In my arrangement of "O Holy Night," I chose the piano to be the center of attention. By using the computers in the Mac Lab, we were able to turn what we had written on paper to an official transcript of our work. The most notable aspect of this project was how our class transformed a common holiday tune to a new arrangement unique to ourselves. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and the opportunity I had to compose my own original composition.
2
The Lambrequin 2016
3
A DESCRIPTION OF SIR DWAIHY’S CLASSROOM AFTER EDMUND SPENSER Sarah Galbenski ‘17
A Spartan shrine to sitcoms and soccer Sir Dwaihy regards as well appointed. Dwight Schrute resides in back like a stalker And with pride Moon Pies have been annointed.
University Liggett School
The occupant’s outfit is pinpointed As a white shirt, gray trousers, and a tie In constancy, souls aren’t disappointed. With his bright countenance, he tells no lie— Except when sneaky Sir Knote decides to stop by.
As Mr. Butzu’s students learned this semester, the Spenserian Stanza totals 9 lines. Line 1 rhymes with line 3. Lines 2, 4, 5, and 7 all rhyme. And lines 6, 8, and 9 all rhyme. Thus, the rhyme scheme is ABABBCBCC. Additionally, each of the first 8 lines contain 5 iambs (iambic pentameter) while the 9th line contains 6 iambs (iambic hexameter, also known as an Alexandrine). An iamb is formed by a short syllable followed by a long syllable as in “to go” or “delay.” Thus, a line of iambic pentameter might look something like this: “We know that Knights win fights against their foes.”
Tyger
Anna Majewski ‘16 Acrylic paint 4
The Lambrequin 2016
5
How to Shakespeare
Emma Streberger ‘17
1. Get assigned a reading for some English class from one of the various plays written by William Shakespeare. (Because why else would you read Shakespeare, it’s hard.) 2. Look at the cover nervously because Shakespeare’s reputation of being difficult and cryptic precedes him. 3. Internally and repeatedly tell yourself to just get the reading over with. 4. Open to the first page of the reading 3 hours later because you got sidetracked on the Internet. 5. Read 3-5 pages into your assigned reading and then decide it’s time for a nap because this stuff is difficult and tiring to read.
7. Internally sigh while re-reading those first few pages you did read because you forgot what happened during your nap. 8. Note the strange character name choices. 9. Pick up on a few innuendos. Brooke Hud wax per with ink and Monoprint on pa
10. Laugh because you understood that last one. 11. Realize that the text isn’t actually that hard to understand once you get used to it.
Organizsoen d‘19Chaos
University Liggett School
6. Wake up late at night and realize you still have to finish that reading assignment.
12. Start to follow along in the story. 13. Thoroughly enjoy the story. 14. Continue reading past your assigned reading pages because you have to know what happens to the characters. 15. Laugh at another innuendo, out loud this time. 16. Accidentally finish the play. Congratulations! You Shakespeare’d *Note: this may not work for EVERY reader, though some may find similar situations in other texts, authors, or even subjects.
6
The Lambrequin 2016
7
Is this writing? Christian deRuiter ‘17
They say go deeper—Yes, I know. Keep it simple, but it should flow Pronouns useless need go.
University Liggett School
Paper is a trusty bow; Words and symbols my ammo. Know “a murder” are just crows Remain alert and on your toes. Stay on track–not to and fro Make sure you don’t tell, always show. It needs to be baked, like kneaded dough But sometimes it’s best to just let go. Revising your work: be thorough. Writing is… a quid pro quo. Share your work, but also borrow. Shake it up if you plateau And be original, don’t lie though. As a writer, you will grow Forging pieces that truly glow Everything will mix, one perfect combo. And I try to get deeper but the deeper I go The harder I try and the less I know.
Dequindre Cut 1
Image: Olivia Portillo ‘16 Model: Robert Whitaker ‘16 Digital photography 8
The Lambrequin 2016
9
Kim Kardashian Has Drowned
University Liggett School
Tamara Ajjour ‘17 In the style of Frank O’Hara
I was texting my friends when one Texted me that the other one texted her earlier Saying that she wasn’t able to come to the party but then She posted a photo hanging out with a different girl So it was clear that if she wanted to come she could have But maybe she was still mad about the other photo I had posted without asking her In any case she was rude and disloyal and is no longer allowed to talk to us anymore And I was about to respond how that seemed fair considering what she had done But then I got a group SOS text telling me to check Instagram So I went to the main page and there I saw the post: KIM KARDASHIAN has just drowned Of course I started crying because, I mean, it was Kim I guess if it had been Kourtney or Khloe it would have been a different story But I checked all of the major sources, Twitter and Snapchat, just to make sure it was true And sure enough it was KIM KARDASHIAN! I’m only happy you got to fulfill your dying wish Of breaking the Internet
Fractured 10
Emma Leonard ‘18 Film photography In the style of Cindy Sherman
The Lambrequin 2016
11
The Middle
University Liggett School
Evan Marquardt ‘17
It’s explaining jokes and teaching dances It’s talking about Jordans and Hip-Hop while wearing Sperrys, no socks Ball is life every winter but I’m a lax bro in the spring Every potluck I know what they want me to bring: Chicken Chicken Chicken course that’s what I’ll make But trick’s on you, bud: I really like it baked And no I’m not adopted, old lady, thanks for asking And yes, little cousin, we’re related. I see it’s taxing to imagine, but looks can be deceiving My father may look nothing like me but I’m just a younger him—and all these Questions just because a darker pigment in my skin? It’s being a bridge over troubled water that I did not disturb yet here I sit, perturbed by what I observe. Forced to choose between two shores that I did not choose but were handed to me straight out of the womb. Both these lands are foreign, though their shores seem ever-welcoming. Like the cliched thumb I stick out, standing on a bridge, A bridge that I created but can never seem to cross.
Moon Walker
William Higbie‘19 Digital photography 12
The Lambrequin 2016
13
University Liggett School
<BOOM>
Natalia AliAhmad ‘17 Watercolor paint
I Tell Myself Dan Qiao ‘17
The car horn blares me awake At the time even the sun has not got up yet I tell myself don’t hate school Because I know ignorance will make you a fool I try hard to prop up my eyelids and Dress using numb hands I crawl into the bathroom like a caterpillar rinse my face with cold water and Give my brain a high five I tell myself I’m still alive And a brand new day is waiting for me
14
The Lambrequin 2016
Then my mom drives me to where Starved people meet I am a dog scrambling for food Never stop fighting for what I need I tell myself stay hungry and modest This is how you become knowledgeable I swim in the ocean of History Climbing the mountain of English Fly in the sky of Maths Roaming in the universe of Science I tell myself never reject learning Life is endless exploration and discovery
My roots drill deep into the Soil of knowledge I Absorb all the nutrition I need I Tell myself don’t stop wanting Because I want to live A life I want.
15
How I Perform Jovana Djokovic ‘17
University Liggett School
I. I unpack. The stage an old friend, chips and cracks cheer my name. I never needed special breathing exercises. The audience never takes my breath away like I take theirs. Fingers warm and eager, I stroll along the platform, stop at my spot and drop my sheets. Any other moment I wouldn’t hear my heart beat but the audience hides behind lights and I remind myself that what I can’t see isn’t real.
II. I raise my bow and place it gently on my string. With a crunch and a cough the song begins. And I’m no longer there. I am not the same me. It’s usually foggy. My fingers do all the work because I cannot see.
Keri Inge-Marshall ‘19
John Elmer ‘16
I relax my knees, and take hard inhales to stay alive. III. Listen closely to the compliments and criticisms for I have forgotten how I played and what I played and where I am and who I am. Abby Hung ‘18
Santo Scarfone ‘18
Glass Mosaics by Design in Crafts Media Class
16
The Lambrequin 2016
17
University Liggett School
My Favorite Thing Evan Marquardt ‘17
Telephone Tower
Saudia Tate ‘18 Digital photography
As trite and clichéd as this may sound, I’m not sure what I would do without my phone. OK, I know, every teenager (and frankly most adults) share the same sentiment; however, whether due to my natural arrogance or some side effect of participation awards in U10 soccer, I think my phone is special. It’s different. In its essence a phone is a very straightforward thing—simply a means to communicate—but this small device is the Kryptonite of modern society. It is something most people dread leaving to its own devices (no pun intended) even to run to the bathroom. Something that has eliminated the need for person-to-person interaction. Something that has shortened attention spans and been the go-to source of blame for any parent. So no, I didn’t forget to do the dishes because I was on my phone; I didn’t do it because I’m lazy. And even though I know this little thing probably causes more harm than good, frankly, I don’t give a damn. My phone is my personal portal. It takes me wherever my fingers and the constraints of Apple, Inc. allow me to go. Every trip is to somewhere new,
18
The Lambrequin 2016
with more information—or just funny Vines, there’s a lot of those too. But my phone also takes me to familiar places, places where my friends are, where my music is, where social interaction is enhanced rather than erased. At this point, my phone knows me on a near-spiritual level. It keeps track of how frequently I talk to my friends, how many times I’ve gone on Snapchat, what I listen to. Perhaps most valuable to me now is how it eliminates the horribly awkward process of calling someone’s house and suffering the screening process that is PARENTS just to talk to a friend—or a bit more special kind of friend. Now my personal assistant handles that for me: instant access to whomever I want. This alone has enhanced my life x10. Meeting up with friends is as easy as typing omw; a relationship can start with a simple text. While my phone can often cause unnecessary headache or excessive procrastination, it remains the single most influential and favorite item in my possession.
19
University Liggett School
An ocean wave of blue credits. Blue for the tinge of sadness because there’s no more story to unravel as those strings have already run out.
Ocean Vines Izzy Brusilow ‘19 Ceramic plate
On Finishing a Video Game Emma Streberger ‘17
Whether it’s two weeks or three years, there comes a time when a game ends. A beginning and middle and now here’s your end and it has been a difficult—or maybe easy—road to it. Sitting there, winning there, you feel something start in the pit of your stomach and move to your throat. Higher and higher until all that’s left to come out is the pride that built with each level completed. Triumph is a lovely thought—Midas touched and growing golder. But it’s not your only thought.
20
RIP to that character that died to get you to the end, and for no reason other than the developers needed a tragedy and that character was their drink of choice A spark starting in the back of your mind electrifies your throat and stomach and everywhere else infectious pride, had previously set in. Whether the end did justify the means, or the hero died, or the world was saved, or the most substantial eye-opening thing ever to grace your knowledge happened: you are now sitting in front of an ocean wave of blue credits. Blue for the tinge of sadness because there’s no more story to unravel as those strings have already run out. And when that ocean runs dry then there’s only black and what are you left with? Nothing. Actually it probably just sends you back to the title screen and you could hit play again. But what’s the point of a story if you already know the ending? You want the twists, the turns, and the surprise. You want the hidden secrets to be, well… hidden… and… secret. Because you feel the same way about this game as you do about the days when you and your best friend talked, and your father didn’t work the late shift, and your mother was still around to say good morning and good night and things weren’t quite so… Nostalgia. Sadness with a well devised disguise. Your memories are shoved in the same neglected box as old games are. Forgotten in a closet waiting to be the next “easy money” at a yard sale, or given away to collect dust on the shelf of Goodwill where all it hears is, “Wow, I can see why someone gave this away.” You might question the choices, the battles, the triumphs, and the disasters and ask why any of it was necessary. But that’s the point, as you live for the memories that shape the person you are today. And be proud of your achievements in a world that’s full of failure. Don’t forget the skills you learned, because you learned a lot. So game over? No. Game on.
The Lambrequin 2016
21
Ode to My Parents University Liggett School Pathway to Success
Jovana Djokovic ‘17
Young ears tickled by balmy ballads of fate and war, their eyes are violins and pianos. I am a silent student and daughter.
William Higbie ‘19 Digital phoitography
The ring that reads Dream with black stars hugs my finger like her arms. A lesson I wear anxiously swiveling the silver of my skin. Games and giggles sleep in his chest, birds never leave the nest without Sadness. We are never content. There is never enough time to spend. What is a student without a good teacher?
22
The Lambrequin 2016
They plant roses in The garden of my heart. They dance with my thoughts and Memories until their lungs give out. The sun sets. I play a recording of their voices to wake me. I owe them my liveliness. With these words I deliver nothing but Gratitude for years of empty air and Compassion. These words deliver nothing. I am always silently studying so I don’t make mistakes. 23
Misplaced Jewels Saudia Tate ‘18 Glass mosaic
Emma St. John ‘17
They say it only takes four minutes to decide if you like someone or not. In those four minutes of neurological build up and butterfly circulation inside the abdomen, there’s a decision waiting to happen as one investigates every inch of another’s appearance. There’s no rhyme or reason for why 240 seconds can determine whether or not you will eventually care for that certain someone or meet their family for the first time. Indeed, it is scary to think about whether or not the relationship will continue only to end in an emotional argument that won’t allow either person to take back their destructive bullets-for-words. When writing the first chapter with the one who gave you all those so-called feelings, you learn every crease on their face, how their voice leaves their larynx on a daily basis, even how it changes through the sound waves of cellular devices when saying, “I miss you” or “I love you” for reassurance. How wide their palms are and the grasp that comes when they get a sudden rush of affection to travel through each and every blood vessel in the body until, eventually, motor neurons send a signal to the hand to hold the other's unaccompanied one. Not everyone gets that rush right away. It just takes the right person—and a matter of time. That’s the thing. There is always a structure that needs to be formed between two people. Time is the spine of the relationship while patience is the brain stem; without the brain stem comes a nonfunctional spine. It’s basic biology and anatomy we all touched on in seventh grade and explored in-depth freshman year. Without a well-rounded structure comes an unsound relationship. It may seem like neuroscience figuring out how to not screw up or make a mess of the whole thing, but everyone learns from previous experiences to find their true companion. It’s just a matter of time and patience. More than those first four minutes.
University Liggett School 24
Companion
The Lambrequin 2016
25
What Would be Different?
University Liggett School
Nick Brusilow ‘17
Do you ever wonder if your life would have turned out different from some small cause?
What would be different?
I know I do.
What would be different?
What if my dad had not taken a job in Italy?
If my Uncle Steve had taken that job on the 100th floor of the World Trade Center
What would be different?
If my Uncle Alex’s encephalitis had been discovered earlier
What would be different?
or if my parents hadn’t gotten me to the hospital fast enough when I was two weeks old?
If my parents had decided to raise us as Catholic
Would I have died or would I have survived?
What would be different?
Would it be as if I had a short life Or if I never had lived at all?
If I had never decided to do Theater?
If I hadn’t crashed on that terrain park the day I broke my wrist
Anna
Anna Majewski ‘16 Ink and watercolor on paper and duralar
26
The Lambrequin 2016
27
I am the three time reigning champion of the annual Christmas domino tournament. the other contender, my uncle
Dominoes
Emma Streberger ‘17
Paper Flowers
Rebecca Lohman‘17 Quilled paper
our audience, grandma. But when he left he left behind the audience wanting more a single player without an opponent and a dark and dusty set of dominoes in his will.
University Liggett School
The indented ivory pieces stained my dresser, as I strained to ignore his passing. But then between the dots and the lines I came to realize that, that box contained all his thoughts and time that he had lost. Not dominoes but Morse code That overflowed with unspoken lines, trashed ideas, and rash one lines, Sad goodbyes and “hey you guys,” a lot he thought and •• — •••/— —— —•— — That translates to It’s ok. These dominoes like a telegraph sending skid marks like I fell on the sidewalk, and goose bumps up my arm. Please tell me all the things he never got to Say.
•••/•—/—•— —
I am the three time reigning champion of the annual Christmas domino tournament. the only contender, — /— • me.
28
The Lambrequin 2016
29
But they make you feel like You did in the beginning and they say what they want you to hear and
University Liggett School
they give you their word And we let them back in But we know if we treated them The same way they treated us They would not be So forgiving They would not make it So easy To let you back in To their lives
Lucy Mott ‘16 Ink and watercolor on paper and duralar
Self portrait #38 30
Second Chances
We won’t make that same mistake And we won’t let them back in
Lina Tate ‘18
We give them out So carelessly But how often we don’t Receive them And we tell ourselves Thousands of times that
We give them a second chance As if we enjoyed it the first time
The Lambrequin 2016
31
Flying Chamelons
University Liggett School
In the style of J.D. Salinger’s “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” Caroline Caramagno ‘16
32
“Now,” said Abigail, “I understand that school is difficult, but let’s try to make today fun,” she said as she grabbed her packed bag. “How about we try to look out for some flying chameleons?” “That’s fine,” said Bessie. “But I never really see any around here.” “Ah yes, Bessie. Very understandable. They have an immensely difficult time remaining one color and staying where they are. They always seem to fly somewhere else.” She continued to walk down the road with her sister. “Those chameleons have a tough life. In fact, do you know what they do with their life?” Bessie shook her head. “No.” “Well my dear sister, they start off in one location. From there, they are always on the move, never truly knowing where they are going or what they are going to do once they get there. They start off in one place and you’d think that would make them happy, but it doesn’t. They always see these other very pretty chameleons with lots of other chameleons surrounding them, so they gravitate toward them. Once they get near them, that’s it. All is ruined. In fact, their lives are never the same after they move locations and change color. Sometimes they fly to so many new locations and change colors so many times that they forget what they are.” Bessie was intrigued. “What happens next?” “To the flying chameleons?” “Yes.”
“Oh, you mean once they are incapable of returning to their original state?” “Yes,” said Bessie. “Well, it’s sad to say, but they are forever astray. They never find their way back home. They end up lost and alone. “Why?” asked Bessie. “It’s hard to say but in short, their wings break and their color won’t stop changing and they’re just sitting there, alone, in a place they’ve never seen before. It’s a terrible thing.”
“Sometimes they fly to so many new locations and change colors so many times that they forget what they are.”
The Lambrequin 2016
Iris
Holland McClinton ‘17 digital photography
33
You Are
Nicholas Rivera ‘17
University Liggett School
A floor when I trip A catcher when I am thrown A glass of water when I need a sip A cinema EXIT sign when I saw what was shown A cabled-pylon when I face high wind A Tempurpedic when I need a bed A priest when I have sinned A coffin when I am dead A raven in the night A Samaritan, oh so kind A Rocky start to a fight You are my peace of mind
Glass Half Triptych Natalia AliAhmad ‘17 Graphite on paper
34
World of Broken Glass
Lina Tate ‘18
There’s a world filled with broken glass and not enough glue to fix it... Eventually you just throw the shards away. You may cut yourself in the process, and then the shards are just trash you threw away, to be seen again in distant memories.
Broken Glass Triptych Anna Majewski ‘16 Graphite on paper
The Lambrequin 2016
35
G-Woman
Peek-a-boo
36
The first time you kill a man, it doesn’t really set in for a while. You kill them out of self-defense—they were going to stab you, so you shot them at the last possible moment, or something like that. They’re dead, you’re not dead, though you were almost dead and are now in a state of shock. You get some bad chills, stumble around a bit, lose your words, stuff like that. Everyone’s impressed, though—they’re all stunned you’re not crying or curled up in a corner staring at the wall, innocent child you are, since they don’t remember the first time they shot someone. Then you go for a walk later that night, maybe—much later—thinking it’ll help you sort yourself out, when all of a sudden you’re at your supervisor/instructor/ adopted sister’s place on the verge of a breakdown and everything’s gone to hell. Then you realize, you killed a man. You killed a man. And your crisis management-trained adopted sister’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, because she’s apparently the only person on the planet who remembers what it’s like to kill someone, and there’s ice water and quilts and a telemarketer on in the background and everything’s helping instead of hurting. You sleep on her couch and she hugs you like her older sister hugged her when she was anxiety-ridden and sobbing and for a moment you stop wishing you had a family and start loving the one you’ve got and it’s really, really alright. It was self-defense. Better they die than you, since you’re a functioning member of society and they were a psychotic megalomaniac. That’s just sense. Your adopted sister tells you these things
Theodore Wujek ‘17 Pencil drawing
University Liggett School
Sasha Jovanovski ‘17
The Lambrequin 2016
over and over again, reminds you she loves you, reminds you your job isn’t like hers anyway and that this was surely an isolated incident. It was a mistake for the A.D. to ask you to come. Nothing like this could ever happen again. It gets better. A week later, one in her line of work tosses you an empty gun for analysis. You stop the analysis five minutes in, and leave for the day. You wander home, read old favorites, flip through TV channels. You water your new house plant. Then you blink and you’re back at her place. She understands. A week after that, the A.D.’s noticed a “definite decline” in your “work ethic.” You argue the work’s quality is still as good as it’s always been. He doesn’t deny this, or even comment on it, and insists he’s “just concerned.” He suggests a short furlough if it gets any worse. You say you’ll consider it. The second time you kill a man, it’s a little bit less of an accident. It arises a certain amount of concern in the department—how did it even happen? Whose gun did you have, and how did you get it? Was it a matter of life or death? Only one other person was there, and luckily they’re more inclined to trust you than a criminal. There’s a short hearing on the matter, but as it turns out, you can barely remember the misadventure yourself. You were there, there was a gun, and then there was a dead person, who is decidedly not you. The judge is on the verge of putting you on compulsory leave, but you manage to convince her at the last moment not to. She puts you on drugs instead and requires that you go to a psych eval. Your adopted sister nags you, and you know it’s just because she cares, but it’s still irritating. The entire building’s eyes are on your back, and you hate it. You’d rather they be on your face, or staring into the gutter. The third time you kill a man, it’s because you’ve decided that maybe your supervisor/instructor/adopted sister’s profession fits you better than your own. You don’t really consider yourself a scientist anymore—you’re more like a field agent who’s stuck indoors with nothing better to do than peer through a microscope. And looking back on it, maybe that was your biggest mistake: you didn’t change enough. Your heart jumped ahead and your body and brain stayed behind. If you really had taken a new position, they wouldn’t have asked questions. The A.D. wouldn’t have gotten so freaked out. Your adopted sister wouldn’t have lost her mind with worry. They wouldn’t have taken you off the field team, or stuck another agent on you as a babysitter, or chucked you in the dingy old labs to go blind and then thrown away the damn key. They didn’t just exacerbate the problem—they created a new one. It was their fault. The fourth time you kill a man, she takes you aside. She’s crying, because she doesn’t know what’s gone wrong and it’s hurting her. You’re hurting her. She says a million things that don’t make sense—that odds are that judge has already found out, that she’s sorry about your parents, that she
The second time you kill a man, it’s a little bit less of an accident.
37
University Liggett School 38
doesn’t know how she can get you out of this. You don’t know how to respond. It occurs to you your house plant needs watering. Meanwhile your adopted sister is clutching your face with trembling hands that burn your skin and she’s still sobbing, demanding why you won’t answer her. Now it occurs to you your house plant is probably dead. Suddenly the A.D. bursts into the room in a moment utterly devoid of dignity, looking disheveled and resolutely pissed, and what’s left of your attention to the situation dissipates in an instant. The A.D.’s overly excitable, and overly predictable. There’s shouting and threats and “good intentions” and a lot of legal talk, which evidently are worth as much to you as they would be to a brick wall, because you don’t listen. You barely even remember being there now; it was like some dizzy, convoluted, meaningless dream. You’re diagnosed with some kind of mania. And you don’t go to prison, which is for some reason considered phenomenal, as if you’ve committed a crime instead of saved your own life, or as if you’re a normal citizen. You’re assigned a guardian, which is silly, because you’re an adult, and you’re assigned a therapist, which is silly, because you’re not crazy. That’s not what mania means—that’s what psychosis means. Do they think you’re stupid, now, too? Then they take your sister away from you. She was already going, but now she’s gone. There’s no word to describe it other than shock. There’s no way it could’ve happened. She was already planning to leave you, you know that, but this? You don’t believe it. You refuse to see her, refuse to talk about her. People whisper about it, say that you’re cold, but they’re all hypocrites. They don’t understand the weight of this situation. They don’t understand how you feel, like you’ve had your spine ripped out with a kitchen knife. The only time you come to see her, her fiancé’s there, too. He’s crying. You think you hate him, for what he did to her and what he did to you, and when you look at him you just want to make him hurt, because he can’t possibly miss her more than you do. He can’t know that pain. You decide you hate the hospital, too, and all the doctors and nurses and deskworkers with their quiet, reasonable voices and clean white clothes that look like death and plague through your eyes, and you’re barely there twenty minutes when you realize you just can’t go on like this, so you do what you did the last time: you run. You run out of the room and no one chases after you this time, no nurses calling, Come back, little girl! It’s freeing, in a way. Like everything’s behind you, everything. Nothing
What’s a few lost days compared to months, years? Who needs those hours and seconds whose only purpose was to cause pain?
The Lambrequin 2016
to worry or care about, nothing to bother listening to or remembering. You don’t remember where you end up after that, or after that, or after that. What’s a few lost days compared to months, years? Who needs those hours and seconds whose only purpose was to cause pain? Useless. Wasted time. Wasted time with parents and sisters and fiancés and friends and coworkers and house plants and things that only ever served to damage and weaken and destroy and— And then you wake up. And there’s a haze gone from your vision. Some kind of curse lifted. Some sense of purpose restored. Something like humanity. Then there are more days and months and years, slow and fast, more moments forgotten and relationships wrecked. But eventually, somewhere down the line, the world finds a new equilibrium. The labs feel comfortable again, you can sleep through most nights, and guns are just pieces of metal. There’s still an entire pharmacy in your bathroom cabinet, but you haven’t been to the hospital in months. The A.D. still watches your every move, but he hasn’t dismissed you. Your adopted sister is still gone, but it’s okay, you guess. Your therapist still asks to see you once a week, but she’s not so bad, even if she doesn’t always understand. She tells you that talking about your problems in second person will help you distance yourself from them, but honestly, you don’t think it helps.
Pop Can Triptych
Cassie Zeng ‘18 Graphite on paper
39
Shadow Puppet Nathan J. Manalo ‘16
University Liggett School
Drag your bony frame here and do your own work. How come I have to slit lambs’ throats, spilling wine on snow? My chains will be yours. No longer am I your puppet, as you yank my limbs apart. I will not let you grab hold my spine to bend how you please. I take the leash around my neck and make it a noose round yours. I’ll pull it down so your face bangs on keys and makes music. When you sleep, I’ll stand over you and drive my foot into your face until teeth cave in, and your lungs drown in crimson. I’ll place my hands around your throat until my name is branded in your skin.
Faces
Lucy Mott ‘16 Watercolor
You want to cry out, but there is no point. I tried to do the same, but you gag my mouth with my own tongue. If you try to leave I’ll grab you by the foot and pull you into the dark, no matter how deep your claws dig into my skull. I’ll rip out your vocal chords before your screams pound against my head Do not be angry. I am just paying my debt. 40
The Lambrequin 2016
Space Hands
Zahra Khan ‘17 Reversal film photography 41
Change of Circumstance
University Liggett School
Carissa Knickerbocker ‘16
Jackie Hayes has the perfect face and golden hair of a poet’s dead Beatrice, the kind of girl who dies a tragic death at the hands of Romanticism and human ambition. I’ve never liked those stories. I’d never be mistaken for one of those girls. I hope Jackie Hayes knows better than to get caught in one of those plots. “Rosario? I thought you’d be gone by now.” Helena Herman, everyone’s best friend, future member of the DAR. Happier than most. Chatty. I swallow, hard. Something drips down the wall behind me. “I’m looking for Adrian,” I say, acting like it’s not Jackie Hayes’s hair that flashes past when I close my eyes. “He has notes on the lab from the day I missed.” “He has practice,” Helena says, stating what I already knew. “I didn’t know you talked to Adrian?” “Attenuating circumstances,” I smile. “ S u r e , ” Helena nods politely, not wanting to point out my mistake. I don’t tell her that I said what I meant. My next stop is Simon’s locker, one of the weird ones awkwardly crammed around the staircase that leads up to the cupola. Number 133, it says, along with the formerly vulgar and currently censored sentiments of a dissatisfied customer. Simon sells information. He doesn’t care to whom. He likes to say he’s practicing, although
Findulias
Hope Kulka‘19 Acrylic 42
The Lambrequin 2016
for what, I don’t know. I think he just likes eavesdropping. He’s waiting for me just behind the door, where the spine of the spiral staircase stabs up into the roof. He’s holding something that he doesn’t want me to see. It’s too late; he has slow hands. “You sure?” he whispers to me, always paranoid. I pop my jaw and laugh. “I can’t get this lab done without it.” He keeps his hands on the box. “Don’t be a sap, Greer, I know you’ve done this before.” “This is different.” “Attenuating circumstances,” I say. “Now hand over the box.” He gives it to me, weak little elbows popping as he does. It’s hard to see Simon as small, but he’s smaller than this, and right now, smaller than me. His army jacket still doesn’t fit him right. “Carpe diem,” he says, which in Simon Speak means I should dump the box and run. “Semper fi,” I mutter back, which in Becca Speak translates to thanks. “Good luck on the lab,” he says summarily, disappearing up the stairs. He knows I need it.
the kind of girl who dies a tragic death at the hands of Romanticism and human ambition
* * * One the second day of 9th grade, I made a friend. She was white and rich and said pecan like it was a tropical bird, not something you put in pies. I liked her a lot. Her name was something long, but she insisted on George. I liked that, too. Halfway through the year, she met Jackie Hayes. Nothing stays the same after you meet Jackie Hayes. George always got nervous when Jackie asked her to do something, which was often. Espera, I would tell her. Respira. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her something else. One night, she sent me a text. School Parking lot, it said. Don’t wait. I didn’t wait. In the parking lot, there was a car, and a scream, and a place where a person should’ve been. After the parking lot, there was pedaling and scraped knees and chasing after a car. And then there was nothing. 43
And then there was the story in the paper that said a body had been found in a dumpster behind Engelmann’s. Respira, my mother said when she showed me the story. I didn’t.
University Liggett School
* * *
I decide the bathrooms in the locker room are the safest place to wash the blood off my hands. They’re so old and rusted that I’m certain worse things have been washed down their drains.
Adrian was at lacrosse practice, just like Helena had said. That didn’t surprise me. Strangers on the street probably saw Adrian and thought, yep, that boy plays lacrosse. They would on my street, anyway. The bulletin board by the bleachers told me that Macbeth rehearsals were still going on, featuring none other than Jackie Hayes herself. The field hockey team had a game this week, as did lacrosse. Jackie smiled at me from a flyer advertising the bake sale. I grinned back. The box wasn’t heavy or ornate or anything, really. Wooden, slim like a textbook, only closed because I was holding it shut. I didn’t open it. I needed those notes, first. Boys were shouting on the fields, tall, blond, looking like quarterbacks but clearly playing another type of sport that I’d never bothered to learn. Lacrosse, the sport of trustfund babies. Espera, I whispered to myself. Respira. * * *
They took her to a door. I know where they went because I followed on my rusty bike, an athletic feat I’d never managed to surpass. It was the perfect alibi, really. Follow you on my bike? Have you seen me run laps in gym? They stopped at a house uptown, where the old money lives. They pulled her out of the car by her hair and took her through a door at the side of the house. I tried the doorknob. It was locked. So I put my ear to the keyhole.
44
The Lambrequin 2016
* * * I catch Adrian at the door to the boys’ locker room. He raises an eyebrow, thinking of something clever and lewd, I’m sure, but I talk before he can say a single double entendre. “I need your notes. Science.” He raises his eyebrow and smiles in the way that only true assholes can manage. “Got the stuff?” “Your cocaine?” I mutter. “Yes. I’ll trade you.” “Oh, Rosario,” he says, taking the box, “you know I’m an Adderall man.” “I don’t know anything about you,” I say, eyes on the wall. He snorts. “Right. Good luck on the lab.” “Notes?” I demand. He hands me a sheet of notebook paper, folded in fourths. College ruled. Hardly impressive. I unfold it. Parking lot behind the gym, 6:00, it says. I can’t say I’m surprised. * * * It’s too late by the time I get there. Adrian never changed out of his jersey after practice, and his crucified posture makes him look like a commentary on the idolization of the high school athlete. The cuts go all the way up his arms, wrist to shoulder, surgically precise. Bits of throat peek out through newly carved gills. There’s no ‘accidental’ to this death, no ‘suicide’ unless you’re blind and dumb. It’s so obviously ritual that I know he must be here for me, and that as soon as I leave he’ll be gone. I kneel down beside him and feel around his neck. He’s still slightly warm. It makes me want to puke, but I keep my fingers sliding down under the collar of his shirt. I find the chain and pull. It snaps easily. In my hand is the key to a house. * * * I decide the bathrooms in the locker room are the safest place to wash the blood off my hands. They’re so old and rusted that I’m certain worse things have been washed down their drains. Jackie Hayes is already there when I walk in. Great minds think alike, I suppose. She has a stiletto knife in her hand, ornamental to the point that it 45
University Liggett School
looks fake, cheap. Blood stains the edges of the basin. She hums to herself a little, playing distracted, but I know she heard me come in. “You’re here late, Becca,” she says, knowing I’ll stay and listen as long as she talks. “Finishing up some stuff,” I say. Jackie nods. “Cleaning off props for the play,” she laughs, waving the knife around. Bloody water splashes against the concrete wall. “Macbeth, right?” I ask, all casual. “Mmm-hmm.” She hums. “It’s a bit gaudy for my taste, but what are you going to do? I need those extra-curriculars.” “Having trouble with the character?” I ask. I should leave. I don’t. Jackie wipes the knife off on a rag and wraps it up carefully. It looks like a prop. “It’s a bit of a stretch,” she smiles. “Good look with your stuff, Becca.” “Good luck with the show,” I smile back. She glides out, back to the theater that loves her, and then to her perfect convertible and spotless house up on the hill. The knife might go with her. It might not. Jackie Hayes has hair meant to be soaked in blood. I used to think it was going to be her own. Now I‘m certain it’ll be someone else’s.
Santo Scarfone ‘18
Tobacco burns smooth Lingers upon the brow Fills the beaten lungs
A paved brick headboard Stiffens the toughest of men More so than before
Embers burn slowly Ash piles upon itself Smoke fills open pores
A false contentedness Expressed in worn slouches Glares pierce canvas
Fire burns within A longing, beating heart Driving men of a kind
An infant peers desperate Longs for a full stomach In this time of famine
* * * “The lab?” Simon asks me, breathing into the mouthpiece of his phone. “All done,” I reply. “Conclusion?” “Intensifying circumstances,” I reply. “New hypothesis.” Simon stays silent, probably chewing his nails and staring at that stupid Chez Guevara poster on his wall. “Your turn, Greer,” I smile, hanging up the phone. The key digs into the palm of my hand. I haven’t put it down since I stole it from Aiden’s body. * * *
46
Scenes of the City
On the hill, a door waits for me to open it. The Lambrequin 2016
All Roads Lead to Somewhere Wiliam Higbie ‘19 Digital photography
47
How the Other Half Lives
Lauren Porter ‘18
I. The overcrowded city with not enough jobs. So what do we do? We protest. We don’t want poverty We don’t want famine We don’t want crime and disease. We want simply to work.
II. Busy, bustling, swift, moving Lively, dashing, brisk, going Life spills from the center, roads stretching out to every end of the city. Cars pass people, racing their way to work. Crazy, yearning, quick, moving Dizzy, rushing, fast, going
A family living in the comfort of homes, surrounded by loved ones, secure in what is owned. Leisurely, working, focused, sewing Ready, boring, dull, living.
Dequindre Cut 2 University Liggett School
Image: Olivia Portillo ‘16 Model: Robert Whitaker ‘16 Digital photography
48
The Lambrequin 2016
49
Skye Vreeken ‘18
Three Urban Scenes
Working Family In NYC there was a family Long, arduous work their harsh reality Everyday, nonstop at home, personal sweatshop Dreaming, wishing to be wealthy and carefree
Women’s Assembly Line There once was an assembly line Women who were deprived of sunshine Their work efficient, polished Equal pay not yet established Their fight is constant to stay benign
Alec Azar ‘19 Digital photography
Masonic Temple
Saudia Tate ‘18
Madlibs for the Laborers, the Immigrants, the Poor
University Liggett School 50
The Line Once upon a day there was a line of the unemployed Their lives stuck a consuming void In the eyes there is nothing but despondence Not an ounce remaining of remonstrance At least a provided, free meal could be enjoyed
(Hardwork) What it takes to make it in this world. (Adversity) Something these people come face-to-face with every day. (Rigorously) Working. Doing whatever can be done. Hoping to have enough to feed families another night. (Deprived) What they are yet (Ironically) believe this the pathway of promise, an end to sufferings. (Somber) The attitude of all those that surround you. (Hazardous) Everything. The dirt, sludge, smoke, the very air. (Illness) A common setback for many. (Poverty) Not for everyone, but almost an inevitable possibility.
The Lambrequin 2016
51
In the Woods Sophia Kopicki â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;17
Alone in the woods, trapped, with birds cooing and cracking branches. In the middle of nature wishing and hoping for home soon. You start
University Liggett School
packing. Once home you wish you had stayed--all the memories that could have been made--the woods is a place of beauty, but not comfort. You walk through the woods like Snow White, slightly lost yet still singing: you hope that these animals will beckon and bring you home safe. . The woods are alive. But are they a happy place? You can wander there but never have your own space.
The weather was cold enough to see your own breath Kaniz Chowdhury â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 Digital photography
52
The Lambrequin 2016
53
Angelic Fires
Keri Inge-Marshall ‘19 The flicker of candlelight illuminated the presence of the woman. Her hair as wild and bright as the fire itself. And her eyes as dark as the everlasting ashes.
University Liggett School
The harsh October air that made brittled leaves twirl, And had taken away several newborns’ health, Had left millions of soldiers with wounds And several widows with gashes where their hearts once lay. The harsh October air that made brittled leaves twirl, And the fallen horses whisper in such hardened whines Had brought such ripe and nostalgic agony, And had left the harsh essence of emptiness in its place. As the days strained longer And the darkness extended its fingers, To be blessed upon with sight of the glorious woman Was like tasting the early bursts of sunlight. If only they had known that fire was the beginning of the fatigue...
Equilateral
Julia Zehetmair ‘16 Batik, dye on fabric 54
The Lambrequin 2016
55
Mountains
University Liggett School
Julia Zehetmair ‘16 Glueprint ink on paper
56
ain t n ou ‘17
M ujek ThHeenry W
e dm s n u d o b lou s ar hip p of c t I clim w e d e e win a sw nd y lent ed by letes a o i il ath A v ound n dep bre hout o y r e b t r wi Su oxyg ath e bre achine d Th n ep a ,am y st ramps e, b p se Ste body c queez llap w o s c et e sno My lungs y fe , m ystallin out My b um cr de ps n wn in y insi i l y m o M gd rom n Lyi zing f e Fre
The Lambrequin 2016
57
Driving Without Seatbelts Kat Tolin ‘19
Pure powdery
University Liggett School
perfect Slippery snowy slide
A Cold Acquaintance
Red and blue lights
Nicholas Rivera ‘17
Hide tears
Winter sunlight glances, denies me warmth leaving me cold and alone to fight in
Ignore reality
Winter, the distant idea keeping temperature and snow lower than distant chances of snow days in
Look at her: eyes red cheeks wet
Winter, who tempts me with blinding light of blizzards leading me to stumble blindly into useless slush
The scene blurs a drop falls
Winter lets me think I can hide and protect myself from cold with fires that never last, coats that never protect me from
Abandoned Insane Asylum
I am so
Emily Miserindino ‘17 Digital photography
sorry. 58
The Lambrequin 2016
Winter, the ultimate puppet master keeping millions on strings with promises of ski trips and snowball fights in Winter, who with Mother Nature, dances on my dreams of perfect powdered peaks protruding polar perils Winter, having filled me with white hot anger and distrust, leaves me empty, waiting for next year 59
University Liggett School
this and following page
Birds (a series)
Holland McClinton â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 Digital photography
60
The Lambrequin 2016
61
Avian Flew
University Liggett School
Nathan J. Manalo ‘16 There it lies on the cold concrete. A broken toy a child threw aside. It’s strange how something so Fragile had the habit to soar so High. Didn’t it know it would fall? Didn’t it know that its impact could Shake the earth? That its speedy Descent would break the sound Barrier and shatter the clear ice Below? Why did it do Something so reckless? It’s because it glided above the sky to Leave the great oak below, and let it Disappear beneath the clouds. It’s because it wanted to land on the Sun, so its eyes could be blinded and so it could combust, its embers Floating out into space to illuminate The ether. But it didn’t know that the Heat would melt the wax in its Wings, and so it let a out shrill scream As it began to fall. Tears fly up from
Its face as the air cuts its cheeks. It begins Spinning Spiraling Speeding Splat And now before me lies a Lifeless heap, with bits of Red spread about. I push it Into a paper bag, and I throw it In the trash, because that’s Where garbage belongs.
Untitled
Morgan Connell '18 Film photography
62
The Lambrequin 2016
63
(De)Composition
University Liggett School
Ivy Meraw ‘17 Acrylic paint collage
Fear
Kaitlin Lee ‘19 Where do I belong Where do I stand Breathing does not come easy Chest straining for air Heart beating (in vain) Bright lights flashingflashingflashing Never stopping, never ceasing Just one thing remains— 64
The Lambrequin 2016
65
After Last Chair
University Liggett School
Christian deRuiter ‘17
Tired legs turn over one another a foreign motion at the moment. Burning quads retain the day’s work as stairs provoke awkward stumbles. The door swings open. The oven does too, filled with smells of chocolate chip cookies and comfort. Wood crackles in the fireplace; Heat embraces my body and Dripping snow swiftly thaws to water Before it hits the floor. I put my hands out to roast frozen fingers like hot dogs falling back into an old weathered chair, the same chair I eagerly sat in that very morning.
Probabilistic Ways Emily Miserindino ‘17 Digital photography
The fetters around my feet unbolt As I rub the bruises on my shins. I flick my foot cracking bones in my ankles. First chair to last chair First breath to last breath the day was long, but that’s the way it should be. 66
The Lambrequin 2016
67
Pea/ce
University Liggett School
Spencer Ewing ‘16
68
Like Father Like Son
small green and hard to see always rolling off plates cause I don’t even want to eat but see add a c and e and now I’m all about those peas what I’m seeking is to be king of relaxing no stress on syllables accented this way or that no stress for homework assignments taller than my dad no stress for stress’s sake like Santa needing Xanax— I want to lie in bed all day long thinking about how my good day didn’t go wrong
William Higbie ‘19 Digital photography
for once Spanish and its accents got me like banish all this nonsense got me stressing on the causes of my getting into college it’s a brutal beating seething over artificial meanings and this stress-induced malaise is pushing me to say things would make my grandma pray for me at the hour of my stress an early death cannot overstress just how much I need some rest
so let me float off to sea leave me please give me some much needed Peace
The Lambrequin 2016
69
Allison Cobb â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 Film photography collage
Untitled
University Liggett School
Coins
Cassie Zeng â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 Rice paper on board
70 The Lambrequin 2016 71