“Addict” by Tara Hahn

When we first met, my world was dull, and nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen to me. Every day was the same and I felt numb to the world. I worked my nine to five and kept my head down, dutifully running the rat race. It’s not that the people at the office were horrible; in fact, they were all quite pleasant. I just could never seem to relate to them. They all had a spouse or a partner or a kid while I had nothing. Every evening I would come home, turn on the television, and fall asleep to some infomercial. Now it seems I can’t fall asleep without you.

Our mutual friend, Bridget introduced us. She said she had known you for a few months by then. At first, I was a little reluctant because I knew what you did to girls like me. I felt that, if I were to get to know you, you would someday be gone and I would be left a ruined woman. Bridget said that I shouldn’t be so skeptical, so I decided to take a chance on you. That first night was magical and I felt as if I had known you my whole life. I had only wished that I met you sooner, because I couldn’t imagine spending another minute without you. Needless to say, I was hooked.

When we were together, I felt completed for once in my life. I felt so safe and comfortable around you and, no matter what happened, you were always there to catch me when I fell and fill me with joy day after day. Every morning I woke up wanting to be in your presence, and every evening I fell asleep in your arms. While under your spell, I felt as if I were in a boat in the middle of a vast ocean. The ocean was dark and deep and treacherous, but the boat was warm and soft and full of comfort. The sea would roar and enormous waves would crash down around me, but the boat kept me dry and safe. Sometimes, I would feel the tug of everyday life pull at the sails of my boat but, the more of you I got, the less I owed to the world.

I started to miss work. At first, it was only a day or two every month, but it soon became more and more frequent. My coworkers began to gossip and everyone speculated different things but I didn’t care, I had you. On the days I called off, I would spend every hour enjoying your warmth. Until one morning, I think it was a Tuesday, when my boss called and said that I wouldn’t be needed around the office anymore. She said I had missed one too many days and they had replaced me with someone more reliable. I was free from the clutches of my job, yet I couldn’t help but feel a little upset. Were you really worth losing my job? I couldn’t stand being apart from you, but how was I going to pay my bills? After a minute or two of self-deliberation, I decided not to worry about it, so I called you up and you came over. You made me feel much better, like always.

You were by my side when I was evicted from my apartment and went with me as I went, crawling over to my parents’ house and begging them to take me in. They didn’t know about you and I knew they wouldn’t understand if I told them. They let me stay in my old bedroom under the condition that I would get a job right away, so I did. I was nervous about telling you. Getting a new job meant less time with you and, although I told my parents I could handle it, deep down inside I knew I couldn’t bear to be away from you. When I finally worked up the courage to tell you, you showed a side I had never before seen. Vicious jealousy filled your entire being as you forcefully reached out with one arm and yanked me back with the strength of a wild bear. I was shocked by your forcefulness and even more shocked when you gave me that ultimatum. You said if I tried to leave you, you would ruin me.
I tried to leave you for my parents’ sake. I couldn’t handle seeing them disappointed in how I acted around you. They had already seen another family member fall victim to a guy like you, and I knew deep down that they couldn’t handle their own daughter being the predator’s prey. As much as I tried to keep you a secret, my parents eventually found out, and soon thereafter kicked me out when I refused to break it off. They don’t understand, and they never will, as they have never felt the connection that we have. This unbreakable bond we have keeps us together. I am homeless, but I still have you. I have no job, but I still have you. That is all that matters.

I never thought this day would come. I was so careful and cautious but you came into my life like a tornado, ripping to shreds all that was familiar to me. You left me today with parting words that hurt worse than any pain I’d ever experienced. You said you couldn’t be with a penniless, homeless bum. You said I was too clingy and you needed someone independent and strong. As I think to myself, I wonder what it was that I ever saw in you. You bring out the worst in me and cause me to isolate myself. You always told me that I had no room for anyone else in my life and I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love but yours. Until I met you, I never knew it was possible for one to be my worst enemy yet also be my greatest love.

Before I met you, I was an independent, well-off woman who took care of herself. I had a job, and I lived my life. But now, I am not living; I’m dying. I am dying without you and there is no cure. The warm, safe boat that once held me like a newborn baby has tipped me out and dropped me into the raging sea without a life vest. I scream for help but no one is there. I reach out to the darkness as I gasp for air but only get a mouthful of salty water and a handful of hopelessness. I beg for you to come back but the crashing waves carry my voice away to a realm of lost wishes and regrets.

Far off in the distance, I see someone boarding your boat at the shore. She steps on timidly and waves goodbye to her two children waiting patiently on the shore. The boat sets sail as she relaxes into your heavenly arms, enjoying the warmth and comfort you once gave me.

“For Apollo ” Michael Tucker

I find you
each morning
in the sun rise

and in this Western culture

of Estimated Prophets
standing in their shafts of light.
I find you in the daily grind from nine to five

where science is the new religion.

I find you

lighting up action hero movie screens

and while I am sitting at my desk composing poetry

staring back at me from behind the white glow of a an LED monitor.

I find you in the right angles of the polished floor hallway at school

and in the pages of my notebook proudly written.

I find you in the cold marble perfection of gallery statues

from long ago ideal forms made solid

by the cold light of reason
and still staring time
bravely in the eyes

you never blink.

“Anxiety” by Victoria Carter

Dear anxiety,

I once knew you as innocence creeping up my spine. I saw you as a deranged smile upon this face. Now I know you are the poison filling my veins, the dark side of peace, and the one thing that keeps me from believing. But I know you aren’t there, because you only exist in my faded mind.

 

Dear anxiety,

Go away. I hate that you keep me breathing. I hate that you keep me from believing. But I know you’re there, because I see you when I look in the mirror. You feed off my emotions, and cling to my fear. So…

 

Dear anxiety,

Let me live my life. I don’t need you guiding me. I only need you behind me. Don’t look me in the eye. Don’t feed me your lies.

 

Dear anxiety,

I’m gonna get well.

“On Fond Memories and Unspoken Words” by Abigail Tiska

My heart beats faster under the underpass and

all I want is to make this last.

City lights reflect off the lenses in your glasses and

I can feel your heart get warmer

just from holding your clammy hands.

They always did shake.

 

(you’re the reason I love brown eyes)

 

Dirty parking garages and

new surprises around each corner.

We really had a thing going—

Remember that cab ride in Philadelphia?

 

Now I’m riding alone

paying more for less

you still haven’t been back.

Phantom pains in my hands where yours used to be.

I keep checking the mail

but to no avail do I find anything from you.

Only cobwebs and bank statements.

If you won’t write to me just promise that

you’ll write about me.

“For Gawain” By Mike Tucker

An emerald, a clover, grass that’s waiting to be cut,

cat’s eyes and Sheehan’s light, the beam of a young man’s heart.

Beveled glass in the morning light, palm fronds, pumpkin stem, chameleon’s  default.

Please don’t lose your head.

 

Merlin’s cloak, sheep’s pasture, a fresh and virgin spring.

oak leaves and holly sprig, m’ lady’s velvet robe

A Season in Hell all bound up tightly in green.

Please don’t lose your head.

 

A chapel in the wood, dense and overgrown, lush leaves and

ivy creeping up the walls, the smell of rain, the apple worm,

sea glass on sandy shores, the tree outside my window, cracked.

Please don’t lose your head.

 

Gaian mind, moss creeping over rocks,

smooth surface of the water,

sharp flash of the glittering eel

like Mercury on white-crested waves  or

a snake in the grass

in the nick of time

he  slinks off

into one more starless sun rise

off he swims

away he swims

carrying your head

as the last leaf falls

from off the tree.

“Drowning” by Hannah Himes

8 minutes. The water closes over your head. You can feel yourself slipping lower, even though your legs are still moving. Waves are crashing above you, but there’s too much water in your ears to hear them. You think maybe you read something somewhere about the average person being able to hold their breath for 3-4 minutes. You wonder if that’s how long it’s going to take. Drowning, that is.

7 minutes. Your brain is telling you to inhale but your lungs are resisting. Your ribs are starting to be consumed by an almighty burning and the water is getting darker. The level of oxygen in your blood is going down, while the level of carbon dioxide is going up. You think how strange it is that oxygen is what makes cells age, that what we need most kills us in the end.

6 minutes. Your limbs aren’t moving anymore. Your body is more concerned with trying to make your lungs fill. You think the breath-hold break point is coming soon. It must be. Your body is screaming. Every vein, every artery, every fiber, every nerve ending screaming for oxygen. Your brain keeps telling you not to breathe. You know that breathing in water is bad. That’s what your dad said when you were learning to swim, wasn’t it?

5 minutes. Your body forces you to inhale, immediately causing you to cough, which only increases the amount of water in your throat. Your larynx and vocal cords constrict to keep water out of your lungs, so it goes to your stomach. This will last about a minute, you think. Water in the stomach. Then your larynx will relax and water will flood your chest. You saw this on the news once; they call it wet drowning.

4 minutes. Things are black. You’ve passed out. Like the news said it would, your larynx relaxes in your unconscious state. Your heart is slowing down, as it tries to pump your blood. The blood is getting thicker, something with the amount of salt in the water. You read that in your 7th grade science textbook.

3 minutes. You go into cardiac arrest. Your blood stops flowing. Oxygen stops going to your brain. Your body gives up in the amount of time it takes a spaceship to lift off. 3

 

2

 

1

“Black Grass” by Rachel Babylon

Before the fall, in mid-September

I passed by the fire house and remembered the black ring of grass.

It was that patch of dead grass

Where the too hot kettle had sat

And had burned its mark into the ground beneath it.

 

We’d stood by the fire house,

Watching the kettle heat up,

Smelt the sweet fragrance of corn;

And felt the crisp autumn air around us

Which swirled the smells I can no longer stand.

 

The next few months I avoided that road.

I’d take alternative routes;

Longer trips down other streets

Just to avoid seeing the burnt circle

Amidst the healthy lawn.

 

The sight of that black grass

Brought back painful memories.

Those thoughts scorched my heart

Just as the kettle charred the grass beneath it;

Withering the innocent strands into nothing.

 

Although years have gone by,

I still hate the scent of cooking corn.

But I cannot loathe the road where singed grass once was.

The patch has healed;

It blends within the Just as the kettle charred the grass beneath it;

Withering the innocent strands into nothing.

 

Although years have gone by,

I still hate the scent of cooking corn.

But I cannot loathe the road where singed grass once was.

The patch has healed;

It blends within the other blades, other blades.