I’ll Follow You Anywhere (Photo) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

All the Broken Places

a break
so deep it nearly
split my heart in two;and now I’m here lying next to you.a voice
that beat me
until I bled;but your love is a different shade of red.a hand
with a cold touch
to match his icy glare;but you took the pain I was too weak to bear.I watched my heart
fall from its shelf
and finally crack;then you dusted every piece and put them all back.a man﹣
no, a boy
who wore a million faces;now you’re here, filling all the broken places.

All the Broken Places (Poem) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

The Love That Cannot Let Go

The flames burn bright through the world’s crowded darkness
Her heart became quivering and she felt rather sharpness
The world kept drowning out like an immense and raging sea
People hoped and longed for true happiness and utter harmony
With the fiery love she gave the world, her heart still thinks of he
Longing dearly and departed, he was her favorite memory
The world came crumbling down
People cried and watched as lives and their memories drowned out
Will there be hope again within the darkest days?
She keeps on loving and bows her head and prays
The light keeps fading away
She hopes this life and crazy world will not let them all astray
Her love for the world and him was as strong as the wind blows
Truly she knows it is an undying and immense love that can never be let go

The Love That Cannot Let Go (Poem) by Elle LaChance ‘21

Afterglow (Photo) by Sarah Salemy ‘21

I'll Still Say Thank You

You tore me apart.Naivety became a weapon used against me,
disguised as a shelter, fortified by
“you were so sad, I didn’t want to make it worse” and
sharpened by whispers of
“she’ll never know.”
I used to wonder who did know, who looked at me with pity and
words of solace on the tips of their tongues
that refused to be let out.You tore me apart.

You taught me what doubt and dishonesty taste like,
the way betrayal feels when it holds your hand, tightly,
the sound a heart makes when it splinters.
But I’ll still say thank you,
because you taught me what those things are
so I could know what they are not.Now I can think about you on your birthday without missing you,
and your name can come up in conversation, followed only by memories
of sticky note letters and songs that sing of navy blue.
Now I can look back on you with a smile on my face,
instead of a bitter taste in my mouth or an ache in my heart.

Letting go of you and our mess was
having a date to the prom that actually danced with me;
kissing boys in dark bedrooms and fearlessly giving my heart to them;
building up the courage to ask out the guy from the yogurt shop,
eating ice cream and talking with no expectations;
walking dogs in the rain and falling in love
with the sounds of laughter and singing in the car.You taught me how to remember
being happy instead of being broken.
How to remember innocence and feeling like the prettiest girl in the room.
How to remember to still say thank you when someone puts a dent in my heart,
because I survived you so I can survive this, too.You tore me apart and
I put myself back together,
but I’ll still say thank you.

I’ll Still Say Thank You (Poem) by Emily Grant ‘21

Newport Reflections (Photo) by Rachel Beilgard ‘21

To My Pseudonym

You were decided before my lungs
sucked in the polluted air of the orphanage.This title curated for me would not
be who I came to be. The phonetics
to which I abide by only
lasted two years before becoming
erased.Now, I articulate my name
with ease and brevity. The letters
form shapes, curved and straight that
are placed in a new array. They’ll
remain.For the last time, as the ink dries, I
stare at the pattern—MSGC.Sincerely,
STS

To My Pseudonym (Poem) by Sarah Salemy ‘21

Blueberry Love

I make wishes on stars
And actually I haven’t in a little bit
I feel like they’ve given me a lot recently
So right now I’m giving them a break
And saying thank you for what they’ve brought
Cause I think it’s something special,
I can’t guarantee it but I’m pretty sureIt’s something about the way
Your name in my mouth
Tastes like fluffy blueberry muffins
Or pancakes I want to make with you at 1 in the morning
Because we both can and we’re togetherI want big things in life
I want to travel and see the stars
And I want to look up at buildings and mountains
And feel like the smallest thing

But I also want to be with youAnd hold your hand
And know if I’m the smallest thing,
I’m the smallest thing next to youAnd the stars will continue to shine
And I will feel like the only thing in the universe
And like nothing at all
And maybe you can help me learn how to dance with a partner
And I will say I love you
And that’ll taste like blueberries too
Because it will have come true

Blueberry Love (Poem) by Shea Campanella ‘24

Something from a Dream (Photo) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

Playing Dice with the Devil

He pulled his legs up to his chest. Long brown hair, so dark it was almost black in color, fell down around him and encircled his hooves. The satyr’s ear twitched, the floor under his hooves rocked, and he inhaled a deep breath to calm his shaking body and nerves.Away from here. Anywhere but here. Salt scent penetrated the ship’s wood and excitement churned in his stomach, bubbling like the ocean water beneath, the water that would carry him from here.Nesea was everything Chiron was not. It bustled with shops and crowds; the shuffling of cards and the clink of beer mugs rang out through the marketplace, and the stench of booze and cheats polluted the air. He thrived here more than he ever had back in Chiron. Dice bouncing in his hand and weighing it down ever so slightly, slight enough that only the keenest eye might suspect foul play. Silver eyes darting in search of and a smile appearing at the sight of an easy customer. One drunk enough that their senses would be clouded, and thoughts muddled. He had never been an artist like his parents wished him to be, had always been a failure as they expected, but this game was an art of its own, and one he succeeded at.He should have known good things never can last. A gamble gone wrong and a game that went south. He fled to Talos, stripped off his name, and donned another. Hid his fur coated legs and passed his horns for those of the half fiend race. It was a place none would expect him to flee, but it meant gritting his teeth and bearing the pain, trying but failing to wield a sword while clad in armor. He wasn’t built for battle nor did he hold a desire to fight for justice in his heart. Anywhere but here drummed in his head. Desperate to escape the trap he’d made for himself, he stumbled right into another.“What is it you desire?”A finger placed under his chin and forcing him to look up into a faceless void of shadow. Blood trickled from the satyr’s throat, the nail pricking his delicate skin. In a desperate attempt to gain freedom, I have no choice but to sell it.His legs fell limp as his limbs went slack. Lowering his head, he could see the blood and darkness congealing around his hooves. The same fear he’d felt all those years ago on the ship wracked him, but his strings were pulled taut, preventing him from moving of his own accord, the only feeling aside from numbness the sinking of his heart. As if it were weighted like the dice.

Playing Dice with the Devil (Prose) by Katy Cassetta ‘22

Monarch Kisses (Photo) by Sarah Belling ‘23

Grandma

The cold winter air blew as the snow fell
Making the yard a winter wonderland.
The flowers and other plants hidden deep beneath the soil
Awaiting the warm spring sun.
Spring comes,
The snow melts away,
All of the flowers have bloomed except one,
One little rose trying to push its way through
the layers of soil to bloom like its family.
Fighting to bloom again,
Soon, a little green stem sprouts from the soil,
The rain falls,
The sun shines,
The bees come to visit.
The rose is the biggest and most beautiful once it’s fully grown.
If you look at it enough sometimes
You will see a little butterfly land upon it and sit for a little while.
The warmth fades,
The cold arrives,
The snow falls
And the flower recedes under the soil again.
Awaiting the warmth
And to see the little butterfly again in the spring
Under the bright warm sun.

Grandma (Poem) by Mackenzie Minor ‘24

Milford Sound (Photo) by Jane Greenip ‘22

Aureate (Artwork) by Samantha Shalongo ‘23

Christmas Sleeping

Last night I slept like it was Christmas Eve
Knowing we’d talk today.
Tossing and turning and longing for sleep
To skip through the night
So you could text me good morning.
And like I do on special days
When I know something big and fun is going to happen
Like my birthday or the start of a new school year
I woke up at 4 am and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep again
Thinking about how much I enjoy talking to you
And I wondered if you felt the same way
Or if I was the only one living at Christmastime in April

Christmas Sleeping (Poem) by Shea Campanella ‘24

A Heavenly Ghost

She never believed in ghost stories
But upon her she saw the most mysterious and wonderful glories
Then there was him
Like an angel he helped her to see the light
But he turned slowly transforming the day into a dark night
His darkness consumed her so intensely
But she loved him still just as immensely
Like a heavenly ghost he disappeared ever so swiftly
She wanted to find him quickly
Her heart shattered brutally once she realized he was truly gone
Will she be able to hold her head up high and stay beautifully strong?
Her heaven with him suddenly turned into a treacherous hell
She knew she would always love him she will always love and leave him well
Until he may haunt her again with his presence
She treasures their passionate burning love, so bright, so dark, and so immense

A Heavenly Ghost (Poem) by Elle LaChance ‘21

The Fire in Her Heart

Life like a fire blazing in front of her eyes
She notices her strength and weakness as she braces through the night skies
Her heart so imperfectly burning
With the passion and love she’s long been yearning
She sets out on her long journey for the true promise of
The immeasurable hope of ever-lasting true love
With her soaring hope and ignited heart ablaze
She truly knows ahead of her there are going to be brighter days
She sets off towards a shining new start
Because she has the warm and passionate fire in her longing heart

The Fire in Her Heart (Poem) by Elle LaChance ‘21

Josie Pearl (Photo) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

Home (Photo) by Sarah Salemy ‘21

Adrian

Adrian,
Why must you still haunt me?
I have lost where to end and where to begin.
Your lips, poised above the flute,
part for a floating Cesario
to escape their depths.You,
the glue, cause me and my bedpost
to settle together.
Mime’s a minute;
a slew of un-promises and not-kisses
fill the gap between Dante and God.Adrian,
Why must you cling to my back,
like aphids licking their sap?
I will pick the knife up for you.
Let my memory forget before my
knowing remembers.You,
a ruse, the petitioner of second glances.
Alchemy’s the mistress, toiling with my blood.
And we come from the same beaker.
The myth of monotony
clouds your legacy.Adrian,
I didn’t draw you the way I had intended to.
The imprint you left on my heart is beginning to rust.
I miss the days when we saw nothing but us.

Adrian (Poem) by Juliana Verrelli ‘21

Life on the Court (Photo) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

Is It? (Photo) by Ziyi Chen '20

Paint Me Like One of Your Dead Girls

this dress was white before i met you.
its frills were laced with naivety.
now there's sloppy red down my front and
the frills are stained with wisdom.
it only takes a few minutes to alter a dress.my friends have all shown me their white dresses turned red.
they've withdrawn into themselves so the dresses hang off them
like oversized lampshades, lightbulbs broken.
there's so much extra fabric, they could use them as sheets on a bed.
sheets on a bed, disheveled and red.what made you think that you could paint over us?
slap us against the wall and color us red
so the bricks blended in with us?it seems as if my eyes are the only unpainted part of me.
the only part of me that is still a part of me.
i don't blink. i stare you down so you can see
what you've done to me.
i never pulled my skirt back down,
so all you claimed as yours is still showing.don't you forget that red is the color of blood, boy.
i'd run fast or you'll be colored red too, boy.when i get off of this wall or this bed where i lay,
there my outline will be.
my body drawn in deep red,
this is a crime scene.

Paint Me Like One of Your Dead Girls (Poem) by Catherine McKay ‘24

If the Black Man Could Breathe

If the black man could breathe George Floyd would be alive, but instead his neck is being crushed under the knee of a white police officer in MinneapolisIf the black man could breathe he might run a lap around his own neighborhood without being criminalized, dehumanized, stereotyped as a potential 6 ft. 5 threat wearing a blue, hospital maskHe might step off his own property, alone without picturing his name as yet another headline on Breaking News, without becoming another casualty of racist police brutality; only the black man’s eyes show while his breath hits the inside of his mask, he strolls past neighbors, protected by the sight of him walking the dog with his two daughtersSunrays bend light to create rainbows when droplets drizzle, but colored skin will never whiten no matter the angle, no matter the perspective bigots hold (or lack thereof), the black man suffers from the generic description, “tall, black, and wearing a tweed hat”The Black Community suffocates from fear, protesting fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers, mothers, wives, daughters, and sisters shot by teargas, rubber or actual bullets, but to white privilege, “All lives matter not just Black Lives; these thugs and looters-these Animals deserve it”Four officers pin him, and slam his face into cement ground, wrists in handcuffs-down comes the knee, George Floyd sputters, “I can’t breathe”

If the Black Man Could Breathe (Poem) by Taylor Vasta ‘21

Black Lives (Still) Matter (Photo) by Isabel Thornton ‘21

Alexis (Artwork) by Sarah Belling ‘23

Heart and Brain and You

The heart is one of the primary organs.
It pumps blood throughout the body and helps the other organs function.
The blood carries nutrients to the brain and organs.
The brain retains our every thought and memory we’ve ever had.
The heart keeps the brain going.
Everytime the heart pumps, it helps the brain function and retain those thoughts and memories.
Every thought I’ve had
Memory I’ve made,
My brain still holds them all.
My heart pumps in a rhythm that never ends just like those thoughts and memories.
With every pump, a new memory or thought is saved.
Every thought of you,
Every memory we’ve made,
My brain has kept safe because my heart pumped just a few times.
A never ending rhythm plays inside my body.
New pictures are taken by my eyes and senses and my brain saves them like a hard drive.
Never leaving the hard drive until they’re erased.
I have a continuous replay of memories awaiting to be viewed.
All it takes is a little effort to pluck them from the hard drive and into my frontal lobe to be viewed.
That’s all it takes for every thought, memory, or word to be saved into my mind.
Every good memory,
The laughs,
Hugs,
Kisses, and
Late night talks.
And we have the ability to erase them if we choose.
The heart is one of the primary organs that works alongside the brain.
Will you be the heart to my brain?
Will you keep me going,
Help me remember all of the good,
The memories and moments shared between us.
Beat to your own rhythm and every time you beat,
Send me a message that will help me save those thoughts and memories in the safe in my mind.

Heart and Brain and You (Poem) by Mackenzie Minor ‘24

Breakfast with an Old Friend

you’ve grown thin since i last saw you
i mean skinny because thin sounds like a good thing
a model is thin and you could’ve been a model before but now you’re skinny as in just skin
and bones you’re very bony now i know because i brushed your arm as the waitress was bringing us to
our table and you were a skeleton
you flinched so hard like you were scared of me weird because we used to hug every time we said
goodbye and now you don’t want to be touched?
your skin isn’t even skin it’s like paper it’s so thin
if i were to continue with this metaphor i’d say that’s the reason for the scars on your wrist you don’t
want me to see your long sleeve slipped and your eyes widened scared again
you were playing rock paper scissors against yourself and you lost you lost you lost scissors beats paper
didn’t they tell you?
we order our food it’s 11 AM and you order egg whites scrambled you say breakfast makes you nauseous
and i say okay
we talk about courses i say i’m taking a class about nutrition and wellness and
subject change
my roommate made this amazing chicken pot pie the other day and
subject change
thanksgiving was a few weeks ago and
our food comes and your eggs look so small and bland next to my red velvet pancakes i made sure to tell
the waitress extra whipped cream
is it bad that i don’t know how to eat in front of you
do i take big bites and moan like an orgasm say ohhhhh this is so good
or do i pick at my food like you take big sips of my milk like you
with your water oh that reminds me did you know water curbs hunger?
you stare at me blankly so i just keep talking yeah i read an article about it on my phone on the bus ride
here i guess that’s why . . .
silence
i don’t how you could pick at your food that much when there’s already so little on your plate
i don’t mean to say it out loud but i do and i would apologize but i don’t really know what i’d be
apologizing for
it’s quiet for a while we sit and eat or not eat in silence until you tell me you have a class at noon and you
better go
oh i say it was so nice to see you again
of course you too
and i wrap you up in one of those hugs i try to hug you tight so you can feel it and know i care i’m
worried but you’re a skeleton so not so tight you’d break in my arms
i let you go and you walk out to the door
you smile and when you lift your hand to wave at me your sleeve slides down just so i can see your battle scars

Breakfast with an Old Friend (Poem) by Catherine McKay ‘24

It’s a Bit of a Reach (Photo) by Shea Campanella ‘24

Polaris

Its snake-like body stirred. The creature lifted its head and opened its skeletal mouth crammed with rows of sharp, pointed teeth. Each tooth a needle waiting to pinprick its prey. Its empty socket glowed with a red light – hatred and rage churned inside the blazing ball. Tiny little wisps of light circled its head, all flickering with the exact same shade of red, and beneath the sand more of these eyes surfaced.
The half-elf woman took a deep breath and drew the sword sheathed at her side. She muttered a word under her breath, and the glass blade lit up, sunlight running from its point to its guard. Her silver braid swayed as she cast a look between her companions.
“Ryota?”
The samurai gave a curt nod. His enlarged glaive was already grasped in his hands, and he had an intent glare in his dark eyes. He’d been itching for a fight since their arrival. It felt wrong being in enemy territory and surrounded by practitioners of magic, and he wanted nothing better than to skewer this beast and release that pent-up stress.

“Lace?”
The girl’s cat ears twitched, and she raised her paw to give the half-elf a salute, lips curling into a feline grin. Her tail swished back and forth causing her torn skirt to swing slightly from the gentle generated breeze. Perched on her shoulder was a small dragon, golden in color with a harness covering his scales, his eyes fixed on the half-elf woman also.
“I’m trusting you both to have my back.”
“I am at your service.”
“You got it, Celine!”
“Stay close to me.” Celine turned to face forward, and as she did, Lace raised her paw. Her two glass eyes glowed, one green and the other pink, and the spell was cast lifting the three of them into the air. Celine took a deep breath and surged forward with Ryota at her side.
The red light in its socket turned on the half-elf woman and the human man charging towards it and the fur covered girl hovering behind them. It didn’t know what had urged the gods to release it from their chains, drop it from the heavens onto this world, but the last thing it wanted was to go back.
It unfurled its body, bared its teeth, and rose to meet the challenge.

Polaris (Prose) by Katy Cassetta ‘22

Road Trip (Photo) by Jane Greenip ‘22

Sun and Moon Pt. II

i crossed the stars every night to get to him, but
i never did quite make it in time.
only recently did i think about how
people only like to look at the sun right as he’s entering
and right as he’s leaving.
a person could go blind for staring too long.
i must be blind because
look how many nights i wasted
trying to get to someone who always left
before i arrived.i was hypnotized by your light.i was only cold and grey and dull and distant
when i compared myself to you.
sun, i might not shine as bright as you,
but at least people want to look at me.
they tell me their secrets,
and maybe it's because i spent so much time just hearing you talk, but
i'm a really good listener.maybe you make people's dreams come true,
but those dreams never would've been born
without me.
you may have the day, sun,
but i have the night.

Sun and Moon Pt. II (Poem) by Catherine McKay ‘24

Fading (Photo) by Sarah Salemy ‘21