Literary
Selections from Calliope 2006
Why I Didn't Do
My Math Homework
by SL,
'08
My dog ate it.
He swallowed it
whole.
Poor pooch.
He still hiccups
division signs.
An Old Ritual
by SL,
'09
The last time I
slid into home plate,
made The Diving
Catch,
smashed a grand
slam...
I will miss those
sweaty summer days,
always dirty,
a drip of blood
running off my knee.
I wore it proudly,
a warrior's scar.
The burn on my elbow
was a trophy for my Third Out.
My soul was woven
in my mitt;
my intentions were
worn on my bat.
Each dent was a
bragging right
of the many sacrifices
and deaths
of a ball over a
fence.
Ice Cream with
My Cousin
by LC,
'09
The smell of smoked
steak and Cuban cigars
clouds my brain.
I paint this blank
canvas out of summer nights,
sticky with ice
cream.
I trace the cracks
in the cobblestone path
with toes, sandy
and free.
We sit on the stained
glass bench.
You show love with
a silent nine-year-old pinch.
Laughter swims in
the harbor,
while a Bahama sunset
kisses our cheeks.
Con Artist
by HG,
'07
Your last word caught
trembling:
I'm not convinced.
Tell me something
I haven't heard yet.
So there you are,
and here I stand.
Take back everything
you said:
you never meant
a word of it.
Don't explain,
I already know what
you are going to say.
Forced to the wall,
you spill fiction
when my back is turned.
I am at a loss for
words.
Girls' Bathroom
by SH, '06
Engraved with meaning:
two names lassoed
in an unbalanced heart,
created by stolen
permanent marker.
A few weeks later
- violently crossed out.
"Loves" is replaced
with "is a..."
Paint is chipped
and stained,
strong to make it
through these painful years with us.
Stalls give the
support we need,
to be kept private,
to be secured, to be alone.
Graffiti, though,
is always there to reassure us
that we're not alone.
Mirror, mirror,
on the wall -
tell me.
Why me?
One girl,
one thousand imperfections.
Sun Rise
by CF,
'09
I look for that warm
smile
in my snowstorn
mind,
the one that will
reach out and hug
my tangled spirit.
I feel the snow melting
away.
It is early spring
in my heart.
Shade
by JL,
'06
The irony
is thinking of all
the trees I've killed
writing about them.
Which Way Does
Your Heart Fold?
by DG,
'09
Put trust in the
driver;
believe that he
will guide you.
Your heart is like
a map,
the veins each like
a different route
to a new place:
no need for directions
or a reason.