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By Beth KonopkaI can not remember who cut my throat.
Mother bites lights as she smokes.
Blue as a night's surprise.
Blue the bruises that curve
under my eyes
under the rock that loves me.
Sharp the hand feeds me,
the frogs ate at midnight,
dogs ate me at dawn.
Can't you see my belly is soft,
my face long gone.
I said it's not important.
Mud and dirt always ruin
A Sunday shirt and shoes.
That cool red leather cracks, snaps.
Wave goodbye to Monday's mother.
Say hello to frogs and tree roots.
This night comes true and inevitable.
By Emily OldakMournful heart don't cry
Autumn is now winter
Color has died out
You've brought stillness to life with your patience.
Emily Oldak and Beth Konopka are both fourth-year dance students.
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