Sarah Stumbras

Jot/L,uur/.

The crest of waves Forms fresh coves Of white

-!oro/ -!tw"Lo"rr

The plaque Covers foam mess While eroding dirt

Swish water Crunch Wasa lnsert headphones to oblivion \\\\\

My Luetfryu

ln class the other day, having a first person conversation with my pen and paper scattered We're going at it. across my desk. How dare to tell me she have the audacity what's important.

Until my algebra teacher abruptly distracts us. Wrapping and twistrng her crooked fingers, smacking my lined paper Black eyeing my thoughts Punching my poems.

She yells,'TH15 lS NOT IIVPORTANTI' I want to ask her, She doesn't know the slightest bit about

me. That l'm born from a mother Who let her drug addiction Choke her up in local bathroom stalls. From a father who leaves me hanging, like Reading a book with the last page ripped out.

And her unwillingness has me sitting

u neasy as she's creasing my lined paper ripping my thoughts, spitting on my poemS.

Cai[y^^ Sfi/{tey

,CAILYNN STURKEY DO YOU HEAR IVIE!?,

And as she comes near, it becomes clear that my name never rolled off her tongue gracefully It kind of slithered through gritted teeth so instead of causing a scene

I hold onto my words, dry swallow verbs, shoving them back down my broken throat.

Until 1 1:03

when the bells ring I collect my lined paper Hold them close lrke the number 11 And I would like to thank my algebra teacher for giving me the equation to this poem.

7T" Uy and. the Rose

Little Lily Lady Leaning on the vase Petals perched in preparation Pecking for a place

Little Lily Lady Looking as of lace The liquid level lowers but It's covering her face

Little Lily Lady Laughing in her case

And her stem, it slowly breaks Cracking at the base

Little Lily Lady Learning ofthe chase To retain those long lost loves Goodness, gowns and grace The Rose stands alone The Grass looks on

The Rose sees the Grass Sweating in the sun

The Grass feels the crush Of running, rosy feet The lovers go to pluck the rose In the morning heat

The lt/an receives his punishment His finger bleeds and thrills The Queen has been uprooted And on descends the chill

llly M,6u

Kebeccn

It is what it can never be A mass of unchangeable force, Like stoic ripples tearing away At a lily pondThe majesty of destruction The conquest of starvation And of course, the acrid hatred of manipulation lvlanipulation of my mother To take a definite body So wholly together With the blood thumping, thumping And the smile crying, crying

freci1Mnrder

For a life, for a purpose But all purposes must be names So this mom spits holy water into my eyes like A black widow whispers venom to its prey Shoving the ancient breath of the Bible down my throbbing throat before my lungs could expand and appreciate air

Stated to be Rebecca lsaac's wife Because she was a beautifulwoman of the Lord-It is what it never can be.