Persephone

Chloe McCarthy

Olivia Lavalley

My cat sits in her hammock unabashedly bathing herself, Licking away all of the imperfections, washing away the touch of my eager nephew, The sun shines down on her fur, an array of bright colors illuminated by the hue of orange, Her coat grows warm beneath the light, confirming her reasoning to lay there, Warm and beautiful she cleans and cleans away. Her striking appearance implores me to reflect on mine, Her soft fur incomparable to my rough skin, When she walks it is with grace, while my steps never cross a mind, You cannot easily compare a being with such beauty to me, But oh, does the mind wander.

Author’s Note: This is a pastiche of Walt Whitman’s “A Noiseless Patient Spider,” written for an assignment in Mrs. Sica’s Creative Writing I.

The Night Before the Storm

Vaibhav Rastogi

A bleeding candle, starlight dim

Anshul Rastogi

A bleeding candle, starlight-dim Stains the raindrops scarlet, standing lone amid the storm And dies its weeklong death like a lunar sun

Wax pools in soft moonlight, a home lost to a quivering hearth above Ever burning, ever ceaselessly churning—the candle dies

And so, too, are lost the colossi of our age Enveloped, forever, in electric torrent

A blaze wanes to umbra, deeds and flames flicker to dust

Till their wax grow frigid, till their legacy be fading warmth

The giants of my youth glint into the abyss, and I wonder: are we lesser for it?

Author’s Note: This is a pastiche of Walt Whitman’s poem “A Noiseless Patient Spider,” written for an assignment in Mrs. Sica’s Creative Writing I class.

Merrimack River Vaibhav Rastogi

Downtown at Night Vaibhav Rastogi