On the Verge of Graduation ALISSA MARTINEZ
I’m worried I broke my brain for nothing— that the hollow space will never be filled, nothing to reap in this soil I’ve long tilled. And I’ll tell myself learning for learning’s sake is reward enough; I’ll swallow that sweet lie, wash it down with a bottle of dark rye. I’ve never liked whiskey all that much, but there are so many things I swore off, like the smoke in my lungs, that old cough that keeps coming back up and up and up. My better hopes and dreams haunting me every time I turn toward a mirror and see those godforsaken bags, deep and dark— reminders of every hour I didn’t sleep because I had too many deadlines to keep. And my momma tells me it’ll be over soon, but it all being over scares me even more because I can’t remember who I was before walking through those doors, blinded and blindsided by all I couldn’t hope to know, just desperate for somewhere to go that wasn’t home but now I’m home again. It feels like I’m sinking in the sand, losing all my time, forgetting the rhyme—
24 • spring 2021
