elementia issue 12

Writing

Beyond the Final Umbra

By Zac Stower

A thousand stark crosses
Plotted on a green hill
Once moving a thousand miles an hour
Now stand still.
At life’s bloody terminus
We are told they are the purest of all of us
The rolling front blending together
Forming a sea of forever


Pictures

By Carly Hassenstab

Police tape lines the yard
I walk past
Baby blue house in cookie-cutter neighborhood
I look down and it says welcome
I quickly step in and close the door
so the camera flashes don’t glimpse inside
A table set for seven with pink orchids in the middle


Uniform Place

By Priya Jain

Even if the school desks
Are perfectly aligned
And the chairs evenly spaced
And the walls precisely decorated
And the white boards
Sparkling white,


Escaping This Place

By Michelle Lascon

This is not my place.

The smile I wear is fake.

Constantly fighting to escape your

embrace,

The proof of my struggles remains on

my face.

Through tears in the dark I turn over

to see-

A stranger, a monster, lying next to me


Her Sinning Soul

By Aurora Westphal

We caught her,
Slowly dying,
Submerged in water,
Alone and crying,
Slowly dying,
As she falls,
Alone and crying.
The sinner crawls.
As she falls,
I heard the voice,
The sinner crawls,
Listen to the noise,


Showers

By Sarah Hirsch

showers are often taken for granted
a comfort for the morning, afternoon, late night, whenever
consistently enveloping you in that same warm blanket
always at that perfect angle
so you never have to put in unnecessary effort


Everyone Thinks I'm Super Happy

By Ali Robinson

Everyone thinks I am super happy
But I’m not...
Everyone thinks I just don’t have any problems
But I do...
Everyone thinks I am just happy with myself
But I’m not...
Everyone thinks that I can just make everything in my life okay


Where Am I

By Elijiah Hernandez

I hear walkie talkies – kusssshhhhh.
People talking, “Blah, blah, blah, bleep.”
I hear toilets flush.
Basketballs bounce and swoosh.
This place is full of it: empty. 


Scrapyard Jungle

By Alexandra Miller

The twisted metal trees
Rise up from the heap
Magpies hop about
The glittering savannah
And crows harass the mice
Nesting in the chewed
Leather seat
Of a Volkswagen
A scruffy dog
Stalks the crows
His paws padding softly across


Pieces of My Heart

By Anonymous

Since the first breath of life,
one adventure to the next,
I can only reflect back in fondness
to the scattered pieces of my heart.


Kansas City

By Taj’Zhere Dillard

This here is real.
There are no stories
about happy homes and whole hearts
where we come from.
No fancy cars.
We got no big houses but big dreams.
This is crack fiends at midnight,
babies crying, sleeping on wooden floors.


Patchwork of Places

By Catherine Strayhall

The losses we experience
The victories we achieve…
They become intertwined
With the places we inhabit
As we go about our lives.
Meaning and memory tie us to these places
So that even when we leave somewhere,
Or the buildings disappear


Dream Behind the Glass

By Anika Rasheed

There’s a girl that I see sometimes.
She pops up from time to time.
Day to day.

She’s a lot of things.
God, she’s beautiful.
And, isn’t she just so funny?


Christmas Axiom

By Emma Muscari

The fire hisses, flickering,
as it lay encaged by a thick black sheath of iron.
Cloth stockings droop down− bare and bereaved.
Pure, white snow is drifting
down from the blank upper atmosphere.
The gray and white dog routinely scampers


Grandpa

By Kate Clore

Sitting on my grandpa Larry’s lap,
laughing and smiling.
Going everywhere on the cart smiling.
Smiling the way he laughs.
Going to the hospital trying to smile,
but I can’t.
Rushing to his room I run.
He is still there I smile.


Three Choices

By Molly Kavanaugh

The ties to your ancestry
Binding a great family tree,
With this can you be truly free?
Now you have these choices three:
Embrace your blood,
An old-new bud.
Refuse the bonds
For fields beyond.
Keep roots down there,
And to be fair,


Change

By Justine Greig

I have not changed at all.
It is not true that
I have changed for the better from experience.
It is genuine when I say that
I have not tried to apologize for my past wrongdoings.
I am false when I claim that
I learned from myself and others.


Where I Belong

By Lauren Keller

I was once told that we must take adventures to know where we truly belong, meaning that we have to search to find the perfect place for ourselves. I do not necessarily agree or disagree with this statement.


Available Space

By Faith Freeman

Place: noun, defined as a portion of space available or designated for or being used by someone; i.e. one’s spot at the table, or if you think like me, one’s place in this world.


Empty Suitcase

By Rylee Wilson

Some of us haven’t quite found a place
We wander with suitcases full of self-doubt and worry
We flit from person to person seeking acceptance
We run from place to place
searching for a passion where we can direct the never ending flow of time


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,


Unbounded

By Jack

This place, that place, there are so many in which I can be,
But I choose that one, the one where I can be free.
It can be a place where the sun shines at the crack of dawn,
A place that is so dreamy it can make me yawn.
This place is there for me night and day,


Glasses

By Ashley Decker

I couldn’t see the ocean, I couldn’t see the waves.
I didn’t even know there were waves.
Just a blue blur, like paint splattered on a blank canvas
Tripping over nothing,
Catching something that wasn’t there
A trick of the mind it was.


Place of Lore

By Isabel Nee

Down the winding path I stroll, through woods dark
And deep, where mystery and magic roam.
A swift stream runs here; high above, a lark
Sings sweet and clear, in a voice that calls “home.”
Onwards, a low growl comes from some deep cave


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


Poem Number Three

By Miles Bredehoeft

It’s been five days,
But more than five days have been accomplished
It doesn’t feel like years have past,
Only that the beginning seems like years ago
It’s time to leave, to another world
But the world we leave will never leave us


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,


The Spacewalk

By Cole Wilson

Hadfield gazed out the small glass window,
a portal to home.
Through the opening, an inspiring sight,
the bright sunlight shone.
Swirling colors, pushing to the horizon,
a palette of aquamarine,
And through the dappled cover of clouds,