By Johanna Beck (‘22)
Violence is a creature bornOver and over againRising from the birthing bedIn bloody, gory…
Oh, how I longed for the dirt of the graveFor atheism to be trueFor rest to be found in dustAnd the unwinding of the soul
By James Easter
But which sensation may roar the loudest in your presence? Which instrument may you thump to the march of your step?
Perhaps the thrash of drums will sound so rhythmically And in such perfect unison
By Shaylee Gibbs
Seven years earlier. You hide in a bush.Darkness outside — the broken porchlight glowsYour tail, no longer than my pinky. Your cry is high-pitched. I call back.
Greek god jealousy, stories of affairslies, cut throats, curses and envious tidesnever could compare to stone lovers
By Sophia Godfrey
I wake upGet readyEat breakfastAnd remember that you are gone
I have felt the wrath of your sinsExperienced why the divine pointed to his wristAnd showed the soldier where to put the nail
Sophia Godfrey
SometimesI wonder why you did it What knowldge did you hunger for?What secrets would’ve silenced the rumblings wracking your body?Was the one bite enough to satiate it?Now I am filled with a dull acheAnd my body is wrackedAnd still we are not god
The poster on the bathroom stall saysDon’t let your friends get rapedAnd it makes me wonderWhat I have to do with it
Sometimes I wonderIf I am to blameFor thinking that I could make you love me
I knewThat every moment between usEvery second my head rested against your…