The Seed Villanelle

Arabela Damarillo ‘24

A seed atop my rotting corpse rests in nourished soil. But we all taste dirt eventually.

My mother knew my love of flowers, And now, her sobs will shower a seed atop my rotting corpse.

The seed is where my heart should be. I rotted at 16, you see. And the seed has yet to be. But we all taste dirt eventually.

The gunman came in late September. Embedded in my chest, the bullet could have been— a seed atop my rotting corpse.

Metal seed bloomed a blood-red flower that grew throughout my chest. I knew I’d taste dirt soon. But we all taste dirt eventually.

The taste of dirt gets old real soon. I taste it every day. I never thought I’d be so jealous of a seed atop my rotting corpse. But we all taste dirt eventually.

The Dog in the Window

Ryan Barnes ‘26

Hope

Kaitlyn Altmar ‘26