Matthew Buxton

Ruth Nelson

Surely it is you — trapped, the butterfly.
Or perhaps not trapped at all but living
Finally with visible wings, I see
You flit across the air — an afterthought.
Surely it was you who painted this sky,
I can make out your initials in the
Corner of the canvas — you startled me,
There at the helm of the pirate ship cloud.
Leave me behind while you sail through these skies,
Only concerned with choosing the right hues.
This and all sunsets are yours forever.
Show yourself in any way, big or small,
And I will notice it, for I am still
Looking for answers, and looking for you.

Raegan Allen

Jordan Henry

Firecrackers sneak inside,
Painting my unlit room.
The thin white door, now hued,
Let’s me hear the old
Chants welcome the new.
Glasses wait for a choral clink
And the bubbly corks are primed.
Eleven-Fifty-Nine heralds hugs
And handshakes, alas,
All are initiated ill-timed.
Promises are cataloged, to be
Filed in weathered cabinets;
As we pledge our sobriety,
Upon toasts of champagne
Among half-empty glasses of wine.
Yet, as the clock hands close,
Young couples crowding
Old lovers’ homes, tremble;
Their first kisses flooded
By an encore of ringing phones.

Aniketh Khutia

Allison Tsai

The insides of my thighs are sore,
And my mind numb.
Summer is still young,
And I already feel regret welling up
Inside of me
For every moment spent with you.
I bet the water would’ve felt nice —
Better than those stale sheets
You insisted on swimming in,
Midnight to three,
Nine to noon…
And my Banana Boat gathers dust.

Raegan Allen

Allison Tsai

If you rack your brain looking for that
one sign of a lingering attraction that
may or may not have ever existed,
then you will find it.
Like searching the dark for monsters in your
room, you will start to make a coat rack into
something it’s not and will never be, and that
monster just might kill you.

Ana Vasquez

Helen Bradshaw