best of elementia 1-15

Writing

U, I, and Growing Up

By Eric Gunnarson

i, the definitive
the only you in the world
i am and you are individual
we are separate
we are absolute masters
of our individual perceived universes.


Faded

By Catherine Strayhall

She is faded.
Worn out,
Worn down.
Time stole her crown.


Where You've Been

By Anonymous

What do you do when the place you call home
Is one that you no longer recognize; when you
Forget that place is no mere function of space,
But also a function of time; and the
Crystalline memories you can still see,


川明かり

By Catherine Strayhall

there was a river/in the black hills/that my favorite trail followed/with pine trees lining
its banks/of hard ground and towering rocks//i would beg my father/to walk that trail/
as far as it went/as many days as i could//and as we walked he would/recite poems from


heaven in the southern hemisphere

By Carli Plymale

i could break beneath the weight of
atmosphere.
these stars, balanced atop my head
are heavier than the sun,
lending their light
across a universe, a lifetime
to shatter my insides in their silence.
the ground has already crumbled,


Excerpt from Breed: The Girl of Fire

By Sarah Ault

I was age twelve when I first drew her.


The Eyes of Mermaid Dreams

By Natasha Vyhovsky

On sad days,
his eyes tell me stories –
stories of pain,
of struggle,
of truth.
They hold within them soft, grey clouds after April afternoon storms.

But the sky is bright without the sun,
because it is never truly gone.


Coffee Cups

By Maya Bluitt

I'm not sure if the glass is half empty or half full. 
Coffee shops leave me homesick for 8 minute drives to your cul-de-sac, to your arms; you're always busy. 


Parting Gift

By Guanghao Yu

Give me an unagitated evening,
where I could sleep-walk
under a light rose-petal sky,
and arrive at your door,
40 miles away,
just in time for dinner.


Hollow

By Emily Wilkinson

I am in love with a girl… who is afraid of breakfast,
who brews coffee in the morning like gasoline feeding a starving engine.

Her fingers dance around the machinery of her waist out of step with reality.


Midnight Light Switch

By Anonymous

The initial absolute of "black"
fizzes out; reds and blues and shapes pulse
with every beat of your racing heart.
You can feel her hands, see the basic outline of them,
of her shoulders, her curved collarbone.
As you reach for her -


Beginning // End

By Allison Gliesman

Today, I am the only song you’ve ever known all the words to.  I am the first person who ever meant it and the last thought you can manage before you close your eyes. You look at me, and all you see is light. You look at me, blinded, and you tell me you’re the happiest person alive.


Marked

By Emma Olinger

“People just choose to be pink, everyone is born blue.” “People with pink marks are going straight to hell.”

“There are places to go to get your pink mark made blue again, so why not go?” “These millennials with their pink marks.”

“Blue marks are the superior marks.” “Hello.”


My Diaspora Poem (Remix), or All I Know is This

By Aroog Khaliq

I hate diaspora poetry
as much as the next
fed-up immigrant

All that bullshit
about “lives stained
with honey and turmeric”
and “the colonizer
cutting my tongue with
aluminum shears”
is utterly boring


Towelhead

By Aroog Khaliq

The night before my first day of sixth grade, I studied the piece of fabric laid out on my bed with uncharacteristic placidity. It was no work of art; plain cotton fabric, dyed black, with a single strip of black lace for adornment.


A Letter to My Mother, Who I Love Very Much and Who I Hope Doesn’t Read This

By Elizabeth Joseph

When I needed a white sheet for Toga day at school, my father immediately gave me his own white cloth. The weave was loose and rough, with a smooth strip of gold running down one side, so large I thought it was a sari.


Flowers Exist on the Moon

By Maggie Golshani

Fidgeting my leg against a familiar school desk, the dreadful anticipation always washes over me while listening to roll call on the first day of school.


Taylor

By Abigail Cottingham

His taste in music was mayonnaise: bland and unappreciated by most of the population. I guess you could say I love mayonnaise. We attended the same school, but a year separated us so we didn’t have any classes together.


replaced

By Emma Nicholson

Day and night become irrelevant 
Time is no longer marked by the movement of the sun
But rather the hours passed in front of a screen


Iconic Narcotic

By Anton Caruso

iconic narcotic, cut it with a straight edge, that’s ironic, feelings are chronic, brought without logic, she broke in with a lock pick, to purify the toxic, joint sockets, fill his deep pockets, talk to him, but change the topic


Tied

By Saadia Siddiqua

Pakistan and America 
Eastern and western
but they feel like the north and south poles
I’m immersed in the red silk dresses embroidered by hand and I’m in love with the ability to roam alone across this land


Four Words to Describe Yourself?

By Ana Schulte

Unsure.
About the question, or the world?
Unsure whether to answer truthfully, or to fabricate a more intriguing narrative.
Unsure what the question implies: Fears,
(Spiders, bad grades, falling out of love)
or physicalities, 


What am I?

By Clara Rabbani

In Iran I am a rebel. I show my hair. In Brazil I am exotic. The nomads left me their yellow eyes to search the desert sand. Where I live, there is no sand. In America I am my age. Stuck in the in-between where nothing lasts. I am the enemy.


Coping with the World

By Amanda Pendley

I was in the middle of Alabama, silhouette illuminated by the golden hour’s subtle sunlight, engrossed in a conversation with my cousin, just catching up.
He’d asked me if I was any better, and I’d told him that “at least I know my triggers now.” 


Curse of the Huntresses

By Isabel Nee

And so the sun, in its dying fire falls,
Into the darkness of the night’s black realm.
The moon ascends into the sky, so stalls
I, to see its beauty and feel its calm.
But then come the stars, crossed in others eyes,
That we cannot in daylight seek to be


antithesis of coconut oil

By Alice Kogo

my hair bleeds purple when i sleep
dark, violet, translucent in the way that sausage fat boiling on the pan is
before it touches a towel
in the way that a ghost’s imprint is before fingerprints are left on the kitchen counter
in the way that black bodies are


It's Difficult

By Anonymous

It’s difficult,
The business of learning a new language.
Words slip away from you like a skittish bird
But you grasp for them
And try to give them some meaning.


ballad to the unknown

By Claire Hutchinson

i screamed into the void until my lungs collapsed,
but she barely gave me a glance when the silence relapsed.
i called out to the stars and they gave me an excuse:
“hey man i’m sorry, it’s me, it’s not you.”


red heels

By Claire Hutchinson

when you click your heels and wish for home, where exactly is it that you go? i packed away all my ambition in manilla envelopes of faded dreams and sent them away to coral reefs so schools of fish a generation after me could learn from my mistakes.


Aphrodite Defiled

By Farah Dianputri

I didn’t ask for your 
insecurities
Or your hands 
To venerate me.