Author: fpoussin

Alicyn Harris

Katherine Cash

I want to be a rock.
a small one,
In the mix of gravel-
packed closely together-
Like we are meant to be.

Never mind that I shall be ground to dust,
As long as, you are ground with me.
And maybe, under us, something will grow
Through us it will bloom

And maybe,
If we are shaped oddly enough,
Someone will pick us up-
A curiosity of sediment

And while independent,
We will be examined
Perhaps kept in a jar,
Or a box,
On a windowsill,
In a heart,

Or perhaps they will grind us to fine dust
Against each other.
A chalk of our own making-
A marking we leave upon one another.

Alicyn Harris

It is not her fault,
The way her feelings suffocate me
I drown in them,
But I know she is drowning too.
Walking on eggshells around her
So she doesn’t crack and spill
A single misstep and she would cry out
I was not perfect enough
Too messy
Too loud
Too thin
Too expensive
Her attempts to love me left me
Strangled, exhausted
And my heart hurts for her,
She doesn’t know any other way to love
I understand my mother,
But I cannot forgive her
Still, I keep going back
Because all I ever wanted was my mother’s love

Thomas Dillard

Flying around aimlessly
unintentionally buzzing
until I find someone I know.

Buzzing along after them
trying to make a friend
only to soon after be politely shooed off
either verbally or nonverbally.

Returning to aimlessly flying
until I find someone else I know. T
hen again being politely shooed off
with or without words.

Over and over
with wings drooping
after each attempt
while wondering when my attempted friends
will snap

Will it be kindly telling me to never speak to them again
or will it be harsh?

Will they grab a fly swatter
and swat me out of the air?

Will they stomp me into the ground
while smearing me into nothingness?

Will I be able to recover to fly again?

Alicyn Harris

I didn’t mean to do it.
It was an honest mistake.
One minute we were talking and the next your blood was dripping down,
Down onto the floor.
Your beautiful blood coated my hands.
I hadn’t washed it off yet.
I didn’t mean to do it.
Someone had taken over my body.
A puppeteer was above me and I was the marionette,
Unable to fight the strings attached.
I sat on the floor in your pool of fluids.
Your kitchen knife still in my hands.
I didn’t mean to do it.
I would need to bury you.
I would need to mop the floor and wash my hands.
I would need to get the shovel,
And battle the rocky ground for your final resting place.
I dreaded the work.
It was a lovely spring day; the kind of day you always loved.
If you weren’t dead you would’ve been tending to your garden, picking vegetables. But you were dead now,
Because of me.
I tried to feel something other than mild annoyance.
Sadness, fear, excitement, nausea, guilt, joy
Nothing came but emptiness.
Not even your death could make me feel something.
Not even the fear in your eyes when I sank the knife into your soft stomach.
Perhaps I had meant to do it,
On some subconscious level
I meant to do it.

Enoch Jacobus

Enoch Jacobus

Fabrice Poussin

Anna Roberts

I screamed when I got tagged
in the front yard of the funeral home
because I couldn’t when I saw
my grandmother’s body in that casket,
stiff and gaunt.

I chased some other kids,
my cream, butterfly-print dress
rippling in the breeze as I ran
farther from the funeral home
and the dark rooms inside it.

Maya Bowers

Sitting on the second story balcony in low slung hard patio chairs we sat facing each other. Her body faced me, her face purposefully staring off into the hills. It was later on in the summer; the relentless heat had killed off most of the vegetation. The hills were brown and low. The heat cast a haze along the horizon line. Unimpressive compared to the towering mountains of Alaska. Off grey-white, rough outdoor carpet stained with cigarette ashes and burn marks scratched our feet.

“I just don’t think I can do this without him… where will I go? What would I even do?”

She stared off into the distance, her shoulders slumping, the late California sun casting a golden hue across her tanned face.

My chest clenched and my head pounded, watching my best friends’ eyes, where there had once been fire and depth were now replaced with a dull, shallow look. Before Rob, when Brenna looked at you it was like she could read your mind, read your soul, and know your truth. Even when you didn’t want her to. Now she just stared through me.

“You lived for 30 years without, think of all you’ve gone through, I’ve watched you take care of siblings all throughout middle and high school, take care of your aging parents, take care of yourself. You have always been independent and strong. You’ve always been filled with a fierce fire. How has he been able to convince you that you’re nothing without him?”

“You don’t get it. I can’t leave Noah with him. Who would take care of him?”

“You think I don’t get it? How can you say that? I’m a mother Brenna, and this kid isn’t even yours. You’ve known this kid for a year. I get you love him, but he’s not your responsibility. He was fine before you and he’ll be fine after you.”

“You don’t get it, Rob fed him nothing but mac and cheese for every meal. He just sat around smoking weed when he wasn’t at work. All Noah did was play video games. I actually make sure he’s taken care of.”

Frustration began to build inside me; I didn’t want to hear anymore that I didn’t understand. Of all the people, I understood the most. I had felt firsthand how the cruel words from someone you love could hurt more than their fists. How effortlessly they could take your love and use it to twist your mind, break your heart, and dim your soul. The way their eyes would darken while they hurled insults and accusations, accompanied with a small smirk. Just enough to let you know that they knew what they were doing, and they were enjoying it. A game just for them, with the goal being to destroy you and also encouraging your love for them. I knew exactly how she felt. But I couldn’t find the words she needed to hear. No one had magic words for me either.

“Brenna, I get that it wasn’t ideal, but he wasn’t being harmed. He was fed and had his basic needs taken care of. You cannot sacrifice your life for him.”

She continued to stare off into the distance, pointedly avoiding my eyes. “Did I tell you about the first fight me and Rob had?”

I almost didn’t want to hear it; I knew how he had hurt her over and over and made it clear to her that he felt no remorse doing so and would do it again. But I felt that she needed to tell me, she wanted someone to share the weight.

“No, you didn’t.”

“It was about 3 months in. I had just moved in. He said he wanted to marry me.” She paused, taking a long drag from her cigarette. “I had found messages on his phone, he was talking to and sleeping with other girls, I confronted him after Noah had gone to bed. I told him I was going to leave.” Another pause, still avoiding my eyes. “He choked me and shook me… dragged me down the hallway by my hair. The only reason he stopped…” Her eyes finally meeting mine. “Was because Noah came out of his room and asked us what was going on.”

It clicked with me that this was beyond a stepparent and stepchild love. She felt like they were a team. Brenna and Noah against Rob. They protected and took care of each other. She felt indebted to him.

“Brenna… I understand you love him, but we both know that Rob would never hurt him. Is he the most involved and present parent? No, but he does hurt you. And that little boy is going to grow up and see how his dad hurts you. This will be the example you both set for him. The best thing you could do for that kid is to leave. He’ll be safe, and he’ll see that when you abuse your partners they leave. That is the best example you can be for him. And one day, that little boy is going to grow up, and he may start treating you the same way.” My voice was cracking, I felt desperate. Frustration rose in my chest, clouding my head, making it hard to think.

Her eyes hardened, her shoulders straightened. Before the words came out of her mouth I knew where her mind was, what her decision was going to be. Nothing I could say could change the outcome. I knew her stubbornness better than most. I realized for the first time in decades of friendship that her unconditional love could be both a strength and her greatest weakness.

For the first time in months her voice sounded strong, resolute.

“I have to stay. You just don’t get it. I have to stay.”

Hearing those words felt like a knife twisting in my heart. But like I had to be the one to save myself, I knew Brenna had to save herself. Now, it was a waiting game. The only thing I could do was to sit on the sidelines and watch her march towards her destruction. Hoping she knew that I would be waiting for her, with love, forever.