somewhere else
By Peyton Bell
somewhere else
we lay close together and talk about stars.
we converse about philosophy and children,
about hometowns and school and dancing,
and all along is this glimmering hope that
the two of us, here, are going to matter somehow
in the great, unwinding structure of this world.
we do not belong to that place but I want you to know
I have lived a dream with you in these few short weeks
and if I could make it a lifetime, I would.
By Emma Totaro
Stars Watch
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By Abigail Lopez
Stars watch bleak space.
Where darkness has no golden light.
Stars watch bleak space.
Where there is nothing to embrace.
There is darkness richer than night.
For here, there is never moonlight.
Stars watch bleak space.
There was no moon on this planet. No stars. When the sun was down, there was no light of any kind provided by the heavens. This was one of the reasons why the sensory helmets were so important. Sure, humans had figured out how to leave their home planet, but they hadn't counted on their bodies not being able to handle the differences.
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Night Owl
By Kaci Rigney
Up past midnight,
Devouring books.
Just five more minutes. . .
Tho’ school calls in the morning.
Slapping, she hits the snooze.
Just five more minutes. . .
Racing to class,
Tho’ sluggish inside.
Just five more minutes!
Heading to the ladies’ dorms,
Yawning, she takes a nap.
Just five more minutes.
School books piled high.
Homework almost done.
Just five more minutes.
Up past midnight,
Devouring books.
Just five more minutes. . .
Sweet Saint Tecolote sets a scene within the bounds of dreamless horror:
Midnight solstice,
Supernatural,
Clairvoyance,
She'll bring death with each click of her boots
Dressed in black and mystical elegance
I remember the reflection of my face in a puddle near high school
I remember the look on my face as I started to fade
I had a place in the sun, but now only the moon speaks my name
I only exist between the space of oblivion and the highest form of Justice
When I come back down to the sound of vinyls,
And the dullness of life hits
And I need something stronger than my reflection to get off the ground
To thrash around and Be holy again
Midnight is the time when I and the divine can coexist.
The sounds and smells of a fresh movement
The feeling of freedom and wisdom in every lyric on display
Screech like owls as “The man” presses his boot in your face
Thrashing around in the Moshpit
Her blasphemest form of Worship
The familiar, comforting taste of blood and pavement
Getting jiggy with danger
Paling around and grooving with jeopardy
Like the moon, The punks only know my name
Sweet Tecolote, Saint of Midnight, and The Punk Scene
Patron of Rebellion and child of Nyx, Steal me away!
And when the moon starts to set, promise me you’ll chase the day away.
​
Because she commands, “The highest form of existence is in between the night and day.”
​
The Saint of Midnight and The Punk Scene
By Angelina Cisneros
by Sydney Aguas
Framed in moonshine
Feathers folded against the cold
Nightingale--my only companion
In the agony of my soul
Only you, nightingale, will
With undimmed fervor and heart
Throw your voice into night so still
Singing as you shatter apart
I deny the canary, thrush, and lark
Whose spirits only thrive in light
I’d rather break my spirit in the dark
As I sit with you here in the night
My pain is greater than words will allow
And the night stretches on everlong
Give voice to my sorrows now
Remembering them forever in your song
Lighthouse on Bayside Drive
by Alyssa White
At the lighthouse
where the blackened waves
crush into rocks shaped like spears,
where the seagulls morph into vultures
and search for an evening sea-side meal,
a bloated body floats on the water’s surface.
Ships alight with booze and good cheer dock
for the evening, and don’t notice the mystery
in the water beneath.
The island’s myths say the killer is a Siren,
those ancient witches with songs of lust
and taunting and temptation.
Others fear the spirit of a young girl
torments the sea she drowned in,
hungry to claim anyone who enters.
At the lighthouse,
the waves conceal the truth and bury proof
Under their weight, she waits for another.