Stories

poetry



by Gina Evers '05

I offer my weight again to the old pine —
the soles of my feet remember us here,

...

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by Nina Romano ’64

 

Cleansed with rose waters of my bath, I don a loose gown of shimmering lime cotton shot through with cucumber and silver silk. I wrap my head in...

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by Linda Byrnes Mitchell ’89

I stole these words
from you, one at a time,
furtively threading conversations
on a string that once held pearls.
The clasp broke as you left and
I clutched falling words to myself
still warm in spite of the growing
distance. Did you...

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by Christopher Lisee ’10

Death by newsprint—
the business section eclipsed the table lamp’s mirthless glow as Citgo’s Venezuela
Trouble
hit hard an unintended audience.

Perhaps he was meditating on death
or...

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by Gina Evers ’05

The mouths of three rivers salivate
as a December moon bears down onto the horizon.
I watch the old man cloak, uncloak.
Here, he says, they call this mid-winter.
"Mid” because many names for cold...

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