Pass-along Poetry...........................................................................Athenaea Poetry Club

Suddenly, as though someone has pulled the tail of the bow-knot that binds me, I loosen; every joint in my body begins to rattle in its socket uncontrollably. I ratchet my elbows against the table, steadying against the shakes.

Every sphincter in my body seems to open at once as the toxic substance dissolves my stomach lining and oozes outward, melting my gastrointestinal viscera into a dysfunctional soup. I feel myself begin to slip away as-

“How are they?” a voice echoes from across the table. “They’re good, Mom.” I say sheepishly, still Quivering in the pants of my pajamas. “Good,” she says, with a smile, returning to her plate.

God damn, I hate brussel sprouts.

-Quinn Lander

A Reason to Sell Your Soul

Have you ever had a hedgehog as a pet? I haven’t. But I’d like to. There’s something about the way that their size is small enough to be considered the cutest thing ever, but big enough that it won’t be eaten by a vacuum1. When you cup your hands, they fit perfectly inside and can curl up into a cute little ball. You might be wondering why I wouldn’t want a hamster or something of equal size. Well, the difference is their appearances. I don’t particularly like things that look like rats2 .

1. Hypothetically. 2. When I watched Cinderella as a child, the mice freaked me out so much that I cried for the whole movie. (Mostly because the mice are in the movie the whole time, but the whole movie I was in tears, nonetheless.)

thirty-one