Young Writers Society

12. Relief

I am so pumped to rest
that I jitter with exhaustion,
stretch with lethargic excitement,
leap, grand jeté style, into bed,
and collapse with the boneless force
of a calculated, dancer’s fall
into the mattress.

13. Antsy

Why must it rain in the dead of spring
the weekend I’m free of work?
Unable to lounge in the sunny quad,
spring fever will drive me berserk.

Beyond the small window in my dorm wall,
grey droplets race to the ground.
They pound on the ceilings, gutters, and earth,
and trap me indoors with the sound.

14. Sunday Sonnet No. 2

Our meetings fill my mouth, my mind, my heart
with food and words exquisite on my tongue.
The fire of spices burns when we speak smart,
while words as sweet as cream clear out my lungs.

We sit at tiny tables, dimly lit,
our legs so close, like pasta they entwine,
bent o’er paired dishes, passing small tidbits
of tales from life combined with bites divine.

My meal tastes stronger when I eat with you,
but as we part, doubt simmers in my gut.
You may be comfort on a new menu,
the pattern: fall for friends as, from trees, nuts.

Am I in love, without a second thought,
or am I Pavlov’s dog, with food, so taught?

15. Stuck

The problem with design
is that it wrings me out like a wet rag,
forcing every drop of energy from my porous skin,
the fabric creases of assignments closing in,
trapping me in a cycle.

Drawings beget
models beget
pain beget
writing beget
drawings beget

16. Exhilaration

Bend,
and you shall feel the tension of your body,
your pink-red sinew, heart, and blood,
holding you safe in preparation.

Push,
and you shall feel the compression of the earth,
of the rubbery black floor beneath you,
all its power thrust into your calves.

Leap, love,
and you shall feel the acceleration of the air,
the freedom of a blue sky,
and the weightlessness of flight.

For this is your triumph, your dance, and your glory,
forever and ever,
amen.

17. Hindsight

In the moment, I am fire.
I spark and glow,
burning with a thousand questions,
feeding off the tinder of a hundred answers.
My eyes turn bright,
and my smile melts the ice of new acquaintance.
Each conversation adds to the energy,
the heat and combustion of sated curiosity.

But when the moment ends,
I freeze over,
stiff with the worry that I seemed amateur.
Was I on thin ice with all those questions?
Did I break it at all, or did they just humor me?

I want so badly that it blazes like wildfire,
but maybe that makes everyone else cold.

18. I really want to pick a fight

What is a filter
but poison to my brilliant,
true stupidity?

Even I can't tell if this is ironic or not.

20. Self-absorption

The mirror whispers in my ear,
murmurs sweet nothings like a quiet flute arpeggio,
and blows a soft stream of air over my neck.
It pays me compliments composed of color,
writes a backward symphony of light
inspired by the hills and shadows of my face.

I stretch in the dance studio,
and the mirror reflects back elegant lines
smooth as a saxophone in a ballad.
I lean forward with a black pen of eyeliner
poised to pull operas out of my irises
with the temptation of daring black lines.

Oh, vanity!
in my heart and my bathroom,
who taught you to sing so strongly?

21. Sunday Sonnet No. 3

I wonder at your mind’s capacity
for organizing details so minute,
a filing cabinet storing all it sees.
It must be far too full to e’er compute.

Somehow your lips form calculations for
a script of perfect, frank analyses.
Like numbers stamped on cards in the cold war,
your speech swirls in my brain like clouds of bees.

Yet when the tiny print clicks in my head,
and all our conversations I digest,
I realize then that everything you’ve said
sounds destined for those rich debate contests.

I fell amidst the warmth of thinking chips
and could not stand once held by your word’s grip.

22. Bored, but not hungry

Things I ate today, in order:
Bad hot cocoa, made with milk but not enough cocoa
. The lukewarm softness of barely-there chocolate slid down my throat like honey.
A sandwich
. hipstery bread with chewy crust and the grains in it
. hard brie in little chunks
. soft, yellow cheddar
. a single piece of fried chicken with crunchy, flour-ey breading
. deli ham, slimy, cold, and sweet
. hipstery bread with chewy crust and the grains in it
Popcorn
. exactly twenty popped kernels,
. kettle-corn-flavored, but not real kettle corn, because they came from a microwave,
. which were free because I watched Devil Wears Prada with the queer womens’ club
Miso soup
. I have a seventeen-point-six ounce package of miso paste,
. which I got from competing in a cooking contest with Redhead Bio Major,
. my very unfortunate uni crush,
. where we made sauce out of miso, ginger, and browned butter.
. This tastes like the transition from spring to summer
. and is surprisingly delicious.
Sour cream and onion chips
. a classic,
. though they also make me feel bad about myself
One small orange
. I don’t understand why everyone insists on calling them cuties?
. That’s the brand, not the thing.
And meds.

I'm sorry?? I honestly don't know where on earth all the innuendo came from. Literally the only thing I've done today is learn about hip hop in high fashion and score a job interview.

cw: innuendo

lol.

24. Battle Hymn of the Tired Student

The cycle starts again as I begin day twenty-four
of this never-ending school year where I’m asked for more and more.
Write more papers, sketch more buildings. God! It’s all become a bore!
But uni just moves on.

Save me, summer, from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
‘Cause uni just moves on.

I took a test in structures that had me incensed beyond
comprehension, though I have enough of that to fill the pond.
What I did jsure wasn’t physics; it was some unholy spawn!
But uni just moves on.

Save me, summer, from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
‘Cause uni just moves on.

The weight of homework crushes me into a powder fine.
Since we had a tiny break last week, I’ve learned to waste my time.
Now I’ve fallen, and I cannot muster energy to climb.
But uni just moves on.

Save me, summer from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
Save me, summer, from this chaos!
‘Cause uni just moves on!

25. Bravado

She’s a skyscraper,
standing on deep, long foundations,
concrete footings piercing through the earth,
finding purchase on only the sturdiest bedrock.
Her steel skeleton stretches into the sky
like wings spreading out from massive elevator shafts,
liquid rock poured, rolled, and extruded
into puzzles pieces fitted beyond human precision.

The wind cannot rock her,
despite the sail of a glass curtain wall.
Earthquakes cannot topple her,
though they bite at her stone roots.
Those who gaze upon her plastered walls
and live atop her corrugated metal decks
will never see cracks in her facade
nor feel a bend in her floors.

Maybe she’s born with it.
Maybe it’s Maybelline.

26. Organized

Color coded sticky notes march along my wall,
a rainbow of duties and days.
Spreadsheets sprawl across my life,
I write lists on halves of index cards,
colorful writing crawling over perfect blue lines.
Labelled folders in off-white and black
cradle every important print-out.

Somehow, nothing ever goes as planned.