Student Poetry Corner

In collaboration with Loch Norse Magazine

September 7, 2020

“Miss America Protest” by Sarah Williams-Bryant, junior creative writing studies major

There is no doubt in my mind, 

That I am a raging feminist. 

If I had been alive in 1968, 

I would have burned my bra, 

In 1920 I’d be friends with Alice Paul.

In 2011, if I was not 13 at the time, 

I would have been in New York, 

Participating in the SlutWalk. 

We don’t want to hear you say:

“the times are changing”,

The times are always changing. 

White men in red hats 

Swear that women are in fact

Fake news.

Time doesn’t worry too much – 

My body is for it to keep. 

It’s been advertised in bright pink colors – 

The lingerie line is for 

“Thin women ONLY”. 

The times are always changing, 

There is a new movement every month, 

To describe how we should be treated, 

Yet Time cannot seem to understand 

That all we want Is peace, 

To be able to home alone, 

Walk on the streets alone, 

There’s a 1 in 4 chance the predator 

Is someone I know. 

Just don’t worry, 

Between the unshaved legs,

And unpaid wages, 

The times are changing. 

 

“How can bliss and pain coexist?” by Samantha Harrell, senior English writing major

joyous

her leash in my hand,

tail like an exotic feather, white-tipped and bobbing in the bushes,

furry little paws that carry her from the treeline to the creek next to me,

canine smile, wet paws,

the sloshing sound of her tongue,

the glassy surface of the water reflecting a kaleidoscopic canopy of sacred forest green geometry,

our little cove, just me and her,

my girl,

my very best friend

 

judge

all it takes is a look;

sometimes we communicate with words; most often

her gaze finds my eyes; if she’s deemed me in trouble,

the single tear rolling down and down

a symptom of a memory of being in this cove with another;

strong shoulders, guitar fingers, and messy dark hair

only a memory now, cold and dead and gone forever;

concern and knit tan-colored eyebrows (she knows)

 

jumble

fears, worries, doubts, and pain

like a pile of fragile, old laundry, a tangle

arms, legs, paws and fur, and hair,

she kisses the tears away and her gleeful look

because she knows she has succeeded,

I am back from the abyss;

fluffy white-tipped tail swaying like an exotic fan

 

jump

Can you catch it?

my heart.

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