55One
By Autumn Owens
i am the clock turning midnight
a quiet recognition of an unspectacular event,
a regularity, a commonality,
a formal nod to the nighttime of a new day
i am the girl in her bed
with her eyes on the ceiling,
and her heart in the stars,
the big dreamer, the solemn
wisher of unattainable wishes
i am the moon
halved and wholed and divided and round
and perfect
in my brilliant soft light,
not shining, just there,
your reliable friend in the dark sky
i am the dawn
the thief of darkness,
filling the corners of the world
with harsh light
Two
By Josiah Hackett
Nothing fills my head
as I wake.
But ideas hit me
in the night.
7am brings about pain.
3am, the light
Nothing frees me from
everything I can’t outrun.
Everything flees from me
the second I’m numb.
7am takes longer than
3am can wait.
Nothing and everything mingle
as I fail to sleep,
and ideas of me
run and run, run away.
7am calls home until
3am can return.
Everything evaluates everything that
nothing can’t fathom doing for itself.
Nothing is without me
for I find a way home.
7am wakes me up.
3am, the night
Everything equals nothing
I can imagine, it’s way too big for words.
Be it for me
that I can learn and create at least one thing.
7am can become
3am if I get enough sleep.
Three
By Claire Prins
There is a quiet humming,
Walking down to my house at night.
It’s not the streetlights like
Everyone says.
Those buzz.
The quiet humming comes from
Some place deeper,
Less tied-down, more prone
To flying away
Like me.
I stop at the soccer field,
Wander through the grass until
I reach the middle.
The sky is so clear,
So grand.
Stars, something about them
Feels more homey than here
Not in a trippy way
But safe
And comforting
When I climb back down
From space, everything feels
Sharper, the buzz is meaner.
Home feels farther, heavier. I cross
The street.
Print
