Sweet Tooth | Fall 2021

Calliope

ADDICT TIA CHAIKET

SWEET TOOTH

lollipop licks that stain the inside of lips, tongues tur ned blue and desper ate at the stick

once in a while tur ned into once a day, sweetness sneaks into bedrooms wr apper s left astr ay

it will never be enough this should be the last at least for tonight, but willpower and cr aving clash chasing the high needing adrenaline wonder why?

the sugar r ush took over treats became necessity leading nowhere and gar ner s no sympathy

MADDI N AGEL

C AN D Y

The music is ver y loud. It’s some remix playlist playing on the speaker s; whoever was in char ge of music has awful taste . I can barely see four feet in front of me , with all the aggressively dancing bodies and no light other than the strobe lights going in, up and through the venue . The lack of AC is apparent as I push through the ter r ibly sweaty crowd. I think while passing by I felt a tug on my hair, which I don’t bother processing, thank god I have a sew-in. With my minidress, emphasis on the mini, stilettos, and long ginger hair, I look like a good chunk of the other people at the club. But I feel different. Lighter. It’s not my hair, it’s a sew-in. I bought it online , I think. The plan was to get a dr ink, but I stopped for the dance circle . How cliche , the guy was break-dancing, doing those little hand spin-jumps and moving all fr antically. Go him. He makes eye contact with me . He smiles. I’m so distr acted by his beautiful smile that when I look up ever ything is gone . I look for him again, he’s gone too.

My head is throbbing Those strobe lights that I just barely took note of are all up in my face , like I’m their tar get I r ush to the bathroom, which is not necessar ily a r ush consider ing the club is packed to the br im I hur r y inside and look for a mir ror that isn’t covered with sticker s or makeup, stepping over

think pupils are supposed to be this big all the time . The bathroom is dimly lit, so it could be that. I get a good look at myself. In the cor ner of my mouth, I see what looks like that snow I saw, or didn’t see ear lier. It has to be . It shouldn’t be anything else , not again. The hor r ible remix music feels like it’s tr ying to shatter my br ain. How is it snow if I’m inside? The music’s way too loud. My head feels light. Light like snow.

It’s some sor t of candy kingdom. Twizzler trees, gum drop rocks, candy cane sticks, the whole breakdancing ear lier was back, but different. He was made of chocolate . There were people sur rounding him, jello people . I’m there with them now, dancing and cheer ing them on. It’s snowing, but it feels like Chicago snow, all hard and cr ystally. It doesn’t look like snow. I look up. It’s a cloud with the DJ and his tur ntable on it, the cloud is making the snow. The music fades in, getting louder and louder. Agh.

COMPACT DISC VERONIKA GLIWA

for year s, i have heard You speak never once did i question Your author ity over time , i have lear ned to shut my mouth, my mind, my hear t kept piles of undeveloped, unspoken words hidden inside of me

for months, i have lived under You and i have grown in front of Your eyes physically, mentally, psychologically, spir itually i am not the same little gir l You once knew why can’t You see?

and for days, You have told me listen. respect and listen. listen to what I have to say i have , I am, I will

but will You listen to Me?

NOS TALGIA MACKENZIE BILL

tea in pr incess dress

gone when it arr ives.

DEAR TIME: BELL A PEHAR

ever y night i look to use you keep you hold onto you for a moment.

minute by minute

i year n for you to stay longer. maybe with more of you i’ll be more?

do more before it’s due?

i need one more hour, one moment, one chance

i pr ay for you to stay as i sleep

but also scur r y away in school dur ing the day

OH, HONEY

ELISE BAUERSCHMIDT

with you i feel empowered without you, depr ived. if only you could pause to savor a laugh replay a smile halt for tasks stay longer so i gain relief you ’ re my savior and enemy throughout all of time

S ACCHARINE PHANTASMAGORIA

SON ALI VYAS

I know it may be a bit much to dream of, but I so deeply year n for sacchar ine love The kind of love that leaves residue of bur nt sugar swir ling on my tongue for hour s on end; the kind of love that coats my hear t with a shell-pink sucrose glaze . When I can gaze into her eyes and see how strong our hear ts’ connection tr uly is, binding us together with candied ropes of desire that could fr acture into countless pieces at any time . And when I close my eyes at night and dream, a sweet phantasmagor ia ensues. My love , she reaches out to me , and then, I’m jolted from my false reality. For this phantasmagor ia must end; this sacchar ine love is only just a dream. The cold, tasteless wor ld will silence fantasies Of those who year n for cloying love like me

S WEET DREAMS

AN EPISODE OF BRIDGER T ON ELIZA WEISS

LOOK AT ME

BELL A PEHAR

you sit so close & i love the way your eyes look up from your book & settle into mine . we have a language beyond words as if your war m brown eyes deliver envelopes to my own: secret letter s between me and you. reality check ini’m in love and you’re just a fr iend. i still sit there anticipating the moment we lock eyes hoping you hold that ir resistible look a second longer maybe this time it’ll mean something maybe one time i can have you mean more to me than just a hopeless look...

ANO THER JELLY DONUT

SON ALI VYAS

As I kiss your candied lips, a thought crosses my mind. It’s a thought repeated, one that’s plagued my conscience for months. Yet I still shove it aside , in favor of this sickly fer ver. I ignore my thoughts of doubt and that bilious feeling in my stomach… Perhaps I ate one too many jelly donuts; they tend to make me ill. You told me that they have the same effect on you But you still buy them, and so do I Because jelly donuts are all we know.

S YDNEY KIM

A taste map had spanned a cr inkled page in our biology textbooks, looking yellow in the September after noon. Ugly blobs were slapped onto different regions of the gar gantuan, car toon tongue . A peculiar ly br ight or ange had mar ked the tip of the diagr am, next to it inscr ibed in bold black: SWEET.

Dir k P Hanig, a Har vard psychologist, had developed the taste map in 1901 With the judgment of sever al

I had looked back to see you slumped against the desk, left cheek pressed against your palm You were scr ibbling something undoubtedly profane across the massive pink muscle “Look!” Gr inning, you presented your page to me , at which I squinted and shook my head The pencil was too faint against the or ange

Meanwhile , my front teeth scr aped the tip of my tongue to the rhythm of a br ainless chant r unning laps in the back of my head Sweet Sweet Sweet.

Later, in the cozy cor ner booth of our diner, you had met me with the textbook. I was poking just the Haning’s research. “See , the thing ‘bout this tongue ,” you had explained. “Is that it makes no sense . This exper iment used people , and people make things up in their heads. It’s all subjective .”

My tongue had gone numb against the cold of the desser t. With nothing to say, I had instead giggled at the childish “WRONG!!!” you had scr awled across the aged paper.

Through your college applications, we sat in that booth. You bent over your essays. I apologized for your wor kload, swir ling my tongue in circles until it swelled sore and red. I had for gotten Hanig’s name and his theor y after the unit had passed. We gr aduated in May 1950.

In 1974, psychologist Vir ginia B Collings published her thesis debunking Hanig She concluded that after measur ing the var iations of tastes and the complexity of our tastebuds, his taste map was nothing more than the product of human imagination

In 1974, I sat on a stool in front of a foaming pile of dishes, r ubber gloves wr apped around my forear ms My children had just boarded the school bus I had picked up a phone call (r are , but always amicable) from you on the third r ing. You had ear ned your P.h.D. in psychology at Har vard the day before .

I guess that meant you were smar ter than me , stuck at home and doing the dishes. You had always seemed smar ter than me , reaching quick conclusions while I occupied myself with my tongue , shoving it mindlessly around my mouth. “We were never in love ,” you had said in the diner booth our senior year. “There’s no point clinging on to each other past high school,” you had told me as you boarded the plane

“People make things up in their heads,” you had said, this day in 1950. “It’s all subjective . ”

BL UEBERRY MUFFINS

MEREDITH ANDERSON

Str ipes of violet streak the batter ; A battle ground of bloody berr ies. The sour scent of lemon zest:

Sectioned off in rows of tinsLaced beneath with paper skinsThe bellies swell up in the heat, The timer is about to r ing!

So when I take a gor y bite , The berr ies sting like bur ning bombs.

I blow hot air against my palm. And sink into the tr agic treat, Not waiting for the pain to cease .

Apathetic of its defeat.

APRICO T MEGHAN NOE

I never liked fr uit. The unpredictability

the denouement of a life of leisure

Either far too tar t or far too sour

Ever y season I wistfully pick my tree , apr icots dangling in the mir age

I never appreciate the kill

But maybe this year will be different.

T O THE VERY L AS T DROP

BECKETT REISENBIGLER

THE

FALL

Icar us, oh Icr ar us, where are your wings?

Are they yet to melt into wax from your dreams and year nings?

Car pe diem, Car pe noctem

Seize the day, and seize the night

Escape your troubles, and r un from plight

But never were we taught

RACHEL KUNKEL

WATCH YOUR BACK

TURNING AWAY

CHLOE ARCIERO

your anger washes over us like water slamming into rocks har sh and cold, under a black sky. slamming door s and shattered glass

it drowns me . i used to gather up your affections, desper ately hoarding smiles and kind words.

i piled up the memor ies inside my chest saving them, using them to justify your r age , even though the well of your kindness r an dr y long ago.

the sugar-sweet taste of our past has curdled into something bitter and rotten.

i’ve now realized it’s not wor th staying stuck, hanging onto something that’s long gone . i’m moving on, so i can move forward.

your smiles aren’t wor th the pain.

B AS QUE C OUNT R Y D ANIEL DUBINSKY

DIMINUENDO KATEOSTROWSKI

yourdiscordantmelody

Once seemed so sweet to me. Broken notes hidden underneath withfalsepromisesofharmony .

To mysmoothsoliloquy,I’dhoped you’dsingalong. but you chose to ripabrandnewsong one that seemed so dreadfully wrong. Yet,lured in your siren’s call. I followed youthroughitall. Throughthickandthin,throughbrightandgrim. Isanguntil my voicegrewhoarse.Still, you wanted more. myhappinessandhopebegantofade leached awayby your malicious serenade. Yoursongthathadbeensoserene, has stolen everythingfromme.

and nowi’mjust echoingthesounds of a forgottensymphony .

You Create • We Collaborate • Calliope

We hope you e njoy our newes t edi tion of C alliope , Sweet Tooth, a s much a s we did cr eating i t .

A s G le nbr ook Sou t h ’ s li te r ar y and visual ar t s maga zine , we showca se a var iet y of poet r y, shor t s tor ies , essays , photogr aphs , and visual ar t We value all cr eative s tude nt s at G B S and their wor k , and we s t r ive to pr ese nt their incr edible ar t to our communi t y

EDI TORS

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

Sar ah K im

Sydney K im

PUBL IC REL AT IONS DIREC TOR

Jack ie Maciusze k

PHOTOGRAPHY

A lex Yunda- R aije r

POETRY

M eghan Noe

B ella Pe har

PROSE

Da sle Han

Emma S now

VISUAL ARTS

Mar isol Da shnaw

Ve r onik a G liwa

Sal Mona s te r o

ADVISOR

M r s . A mie Elliot t

S TA FF

Me r edi t h A nde r son

T ia Chaiket

Pay ton Cor cor an

A bigail G ifar gis

Ava Hage r

Elle Mile k

Olivia K im

J ihye K im

Mina K im

Evely n O h

Samir a Quevedo

A lexis Seed

Sonali Vy a s

T im Wal te r s

A nn Xu