Young Writers Society

giraffe breath

the growing boy is given two stuffed toys:
this is important because two is his age
and toys are what he should need; not G-Tubes, nor
CPAP machines; but when he plays with the giraffe,
because the elephant was just so basic,
a giraffe's mouth straps to his mouth--
and at age two he has his first kiss,
crying as he's forced to breathe alien breath.

상상보다

you are a wide open field
and I promise myself
I will learn to love your hidden dips
and sudden sprouted clods of earth
that separate you from fantasy.
I aim to trip on your existence
and feel you in the bloom of blood
on my grass-scraped green-stained knee,
unexpected and so, so slick.

I Am Fairly Sure I Am A Reincarnation Of Guy Fawkes' Hidden Fear of Fire
[removed for contest]

warning signs

Bridge may be icy

Funny, it didn't seem so slippery
back in September.
I should have noticed
when people stopped asking how I was,
when they stopped inviting me to lunch.

Clearance: 14 ft. 10 in.

I never understood the purpose
of those signs. You see them
far too late to turn the semi around.
Just like I didn't know I couldn't fit in my cubicle
until they handed me a box and a list of reasons.

I fall down under the weight of
I should have known.
I am scarred by the feeling that
I should have turned the truck around,
even though I didn't see the signs
until I crashed into them.

A Whisper Lost
I’ve always been intrigued by the origin of whispering
who was the first, what did they say?
_____your hushed “I love you”
_____rings more true than even
_____when I shout it from the mountain tops.
I've read that even God sometimes spoke
in a still-small-voice
_____something manifesting stronger in
_____what was once perceived as weak
_____is one of the eternal ironies
People talk about catching stars and kisses
but how provoking to try to capture a whisper
_____words said softly, like flower petal
_____rain drops, never die. They fade
_____but continue – around the moon and back.
I think the concept of soft speech is so remarkable
because it’s so easy to miss, so fragile, yet so intent
_____if I could have caught the sweet whispers of your love
_____and saved them in my hands, I would have
_____held them to my heart, then given them back to you.

Temple Shadows

The separation of church and state in Utah
is how Moroni, crowded by modern skyscrapers,
towers above the flimsy state capital building
in his square, blowing his horn over imposing spires
and marble office structures graced by a name
that I will always mistakenly call LSD,
particularly if I am tired, my eyes are leaden,
and my younger brother brandishes his new phone
in the eagerness of a modern selfie-taker
constantly seeking my attention,
as he has no one else to talk to or call or text.

I find that my only place in the world
is that of the dead, black-eyed animal that I saw
draped ungracefully on a road squeezed
by olive green mountains on one side, and the other
the asphalt leading up to the state capitol building,
listless head inches away from worn tires driven
by men and women with frayed nerves in place of coffee
and speed, as always, in place of grace;
Utah hospitality is sometimes hazardous to deer.

Loss is

Loss is not an intangible thing
so don't let them abstract it into metaphors
and forget-me-nots.

It isn't what isn't there which might hurt you,
it's what is.
It's the memories,
the echoes of a might-have-been
when you find a too worn photograph
and fill in the blanks of the time
between
two faces of a spinning coin.
And you're trapped, clinging
to the inner band
of brass

but a coin can't stand on end forever

and loss isn't always about the missing piece;
it can be about what's standing in its place,
the fit so seamless you could almost believe
there was never a hole.
Or there might be, but it's too small
for anything to fall through twice.

Loss is something real and felt within
but it's hard to describe without listing
what it could have been
without.

Goodnight, Sister

Born from the same womb
you and me.

Born on the same day
you and me.

Grew up side by side
you and me.

Do you recall
that first day of school?
You dragged me around,
introducing me to everyone

Do you recall
High School Promotion,
standing side by side
on the stage,
beaming ear to ear?

Remember when
we graduated?
You as Class President,
I as Valedictorian
Practicing our speeches
to each other every day
for three weeks?

Our diplomas matched;
from the same college,
of the same degree
We stood proudly
beside one another,
holding them

We've always been
beside one another
standing proudly
You taught me
confidence,
and I love you for it

I have always loved you

I'm closing the coffin now
Closing a chapter of my life
This is the last time I'll see you?
Then, I guess this is goodbye.

Goodnight, sister.

I love you.

Moon

nestling quietly in its seat
of the Ferris Wheel called gravity
when dawn sunders the sky;

after rustling the curtains
as it steps out of the house
through the window-sill

after peeping through the curtains
to gaze on a little baby
rocked to sleep, gently,

with lullabies sailing down
like shooting stars
from the mother’s loving soul;

after stepping down from
its creamy white throne
to float across the ground

leaving a white milky trail
for nocturnal lives to prowl,
and travelers and sailors to embrace;

after balancing in the tip
of the star-spangled sky
on the top of the Ferris Wheel.

Infinitesimal


The sea swelled beneath us,
as you stood on the precipice
of a cliff. Your pant legs were
pulled up to your knees, shirt
clinging to your chest as though
it was afraid of falling off. Wet footsteps
trailed behind us, becoming fainter
as we got closer to the edge.

The ocean foamed at the
corners of its mouth, waiting to devour
our celestial bodies.
We plunged into the sacred waters,
making only a infinitesimal ripple
in its vastness.

The sea swelled above us
as we sunk, the air
emptying from our
tortured lungs. For the screams
you let out could not be heard;
only the dwellers and inhabitants
of the deep blue hearkened and bottled
your bellows.

Over time, the sand
tucked us in bed, a blanket
smothering our bodies, a gravedigger
of sorts, for you and I.
Putting us to bed
one last time,
a faint, lamented lullaby
that came from the lips
of the ocean. The last bubbles
leaving our lungs, escaping
into the fathomless sea.

when I hear your name
I'm reminded of ear buds
hanging from a smiling mouth
and the dandelions we
saw on the way to our
second date
that made a bed for us,
in the field by the pier
where we shared
our first kiss



you used to love to pick them

but yet you still do
(only without me)


in your absence I became
not just friends
but lovers with the lady
named Scotch
who holds my heart in warm regards
(not just letting me)
but forcing me to think back
upon better days
and better nights
(i wish you were here)

you led me- like a lamb to the slaughter-
to your cotton-soft life and held me there
it turned to concrete when my mind wandered
my prison
(No, my Hell)


Hollywood Undead, The Cab,
Homestuck and Corpse Party
things you always loved
I always hated them
stick to me,
like the way our fingers
hung together the last time
I held your hand,
tracing the outline of each knuckle

"I'm an angel with a shotgun"
you used to sing

you were my angel
(you still are)
but only the one I see
when Ambien and Lunesta take their toll
and you slip through the cracks
of my corroded mind

you did this
but still yet, it was the pills

and when I lay my head
on one final bed of dandelions
(in Tennessee, no less)
I see my angel once again
can I hold you one final time?
I want to,
yet I want to turn away
like you did to me when my eyes were on only you.

Tears

Droplets of water,
push upon my eye
But they never leave
They push, but they won't go
I won't allow them

For tears are signs of weakness,
at least I was told
I won't let them leave
They are locked in the gates,
behind my eyes
They are locked in a tower,
made of titanium

My tears are prisoners
That will never be free
Tears are weakness,
but I am not weak