Man Falls in Love…With Reflection
“Oh. My. Gosh,”
he says as he stares into the mirror, eyes agape
every time he passes by a window –
no, every time he passes by
ANYTHING
on which he can see his reflection –
let’s just say
desire doesn’t exactly
take orders.
They have known each other
for so long.
So it seems only natural
for them to go to
the
next
level.
He need not worry about
covering the bill.
His partner pays
every time.
He is a great listener,
and they never disagree on
anything –
dinner ideas, vacation plans,
selfie camera angles –
you name it!
The only downside is
his eyelids get jealous,
So they force him to look at them instead…
*BLINK*
– Report by I.M. Goodlooking
Chauncey Williams-Wesley
Chicago
My mother steps out of an office building,
tightening the trench around her, long curly hair bouncing.
It’s November, it’s cold, and she’s hurrying to the bus stop.
The wheels roll over brown-grey piles of half melted snow
and squeal to a stop as she boards.
She makes her way back to her apartment, book in hand.
She hip checks the door as she opens it, letting it delicately smack
into the wall.
She’s only here for a bit.
Just long enough to make a meal from her poorly stashed pantry
and to change out of her work sweater.
As the stars enlarge, she heads out again,
walking this time.
She’s young, twenty-something, and thriving
and she wants nothing more than to sit and feel,
feel the pulse of the city throbbing,
feel loneliness settling in her bones,
because home is two hours away,
but she doesn’t know she’s gonna be displaced
a thousand or two more miles to a new home.
Olivia Boardman
S Cinderella
Day after day I have to cater to
them.
My fingers are cramping from cleaning.
My body is tired from cooking,
running errands.
Stepmother never allows me to rest –
I wonder if Mother’s soul is resting?
Fathers?
The pathetic excuse of a stepmother,
along with her infantile daughters,
know not of the pain I carry.
They know not of the tears that fall
and fall
and fall
I cannot remember the last time I was happy,
but
I do remember the day father died.
I, too, did die that night.
Now I am just an empty vessel of a girl.
I grab a broom,
daydreaming of a prince charming to
sweep me off my feet.
Bre’Einda Davis
The Dark Road
The asphalt path led down the road for miles.
Dead plants mixed with dead grass surrounded it.
No animals were to be found for legions.
There is, however, one tree next to the road
fighting back the horrid place into livelihood.
If someone yelled in this place they would be met
with an echo. The asphalt appears so sparkly.
That is because darkness overtakes the path
making the long road shine bright.
No one has approached the road in over a decade.
In the middle of Maine, the road sits.
A nuclear explosion sucked in all of the life from it
like a vacuum cleaning a floor covered in small diamonds.
Somehow a seed managed to survive
along with the road that leads to nothingness.
One day the tree began to grow leaves suddenly.
Its dark oak base sprouted branches that held them.
The leaves, like glowing specks of light appearing in the dark.
One might think this place is nothing but utter darkness,
but even this plant can’t destroy the light that shines through.
Keith Held
My Grandfather
I wish I could have seen him then:
a young boy with a thick mop of red hair
whose childhood was ended all too soon.
Did we know when it was over?
As he walked the broken streets
with chunks of asphalt gone
like all the money in the country,
hollering that anyone could purchase a paper
for a penny.
Was it when he went to bed
with a howling stomach?
Or when his toes welded together –
his eyes crusted in the morning
with remnants of tears –
because his cracked leather shoes
were too small?
I will never know.
But, if he had given up then,
where would I be now?
Annie Knight
Central High School
Little Rock, AR
Dates of Visit: October 18, 2017
Faculty Sponsor: Suzann Saltzman
Grade Levels: 12
Appx. Number Students Served: 16
Visiting Writers: Patrick Font, Rome Morgan