Pillars of Salt

Pillars of Salt

Literary MagazineThe Archer School for Girls

Spring 2014

Editors:Grace PiccardCarly Winant

Staff:Julia Chen

Maria GelabertKatie Hershey-Van Horn

Sage MaleckiTalia Natoli

Emily PiccardTracey Thompson

Emily Ward

Advisor:Brian Wogensen

Tracey Thompson ’15

Table of Contents

Cover, Sonia Miklaucic........................................................................................................................................cover

May, Julia Chen.........................................................................................................................................................4

Untitled, Allie Simon................................................................................................................................................5

The Dream of Being Trapped in the Sky, Casey Abrahams..........................................................................................6

Bread, Octavia Leclerc-Jones.....................................................................................................................................7

Marred Cherry Wood, Sage Malecki...........................................................................................................................8

Summer Night, Katie Hershey Van-Horn...................................................................................................................9

Ruby and Mitch, Emily Ward.................................................................................................................................12

Left Sock, Tracey Thompson.....................................................................................................................................16

Specifics, Talia Natoli..............................................................................................................................................18

Sacrament, Emily Piccard........................................................................................................................................20

Untitled, Talia Natoli...............................................................................................................................................22

Möbius, Maria Gelabert..........................................................................................................................................23

Cir cuit, Maria Gelabert.......................................................................................................................................26

Swan Song, Maria Gelabert......................................................................................................................................28

Untitled, Katie Hershey Van-Horn...........................................................................................................................30

Premature Declaration, Grace Piccard......................................................................................................................31

La Spiralem Grace Piccard........................................................................................................................................36

What If, Julia Chen.................................................................................................................................................37

Untitled, Talia Natoli...............................................................................................................................................38

Arcadia. The Pillars of Salt Staff...............................................................................................................................39

Untitled, Cece Bobbitt............................................................................................................................................40

4 Pillars of Salt

The upperclassmen groan.Summer’s almost here,but so are finals.

The sun keeps our attentionfrom the smart board in class.AP exams snatch our sleepand replace it with studying.

Graduation looms for the seniors,a time of nostalgia and excitement.They’re finally done,and starting the next chapter of their lives.

The maypole has gone up,its vibrant colors decorating the grassy lawn.Our neighbors know now as well,that summer’s coming.

May. June.

Julia Chen ’15

May

Pillars of Salt 5Allie Simon ’15

6 Pillars of Salt

Last night I dreamt of a foreboding greyness in the sky. The clouds were weighed down by darkness, and the wind whistled an ominous tune. I realized the bottoms of my feet touched nothing but open air. My gaze fell upon the unfamiliar world beneath me. Gone were the innocent faces that reflected the sun’s glare onto their youthful skin. Gone were the eyes encompassed in wrinkles and creases, like cracks in a sidewalk. Gone were the small, identical buildings in which we made our abode. Gone were the cobblestone roads that endured the weight of our bodies day by day. I could see through the thin shroud of fog that the landscape below me was forest. The townspeople had been replaced by woodland animals, buildings replaced by families of oak trees, and winding roads replaced by meandering streams. I looked up at my arms and saw that they were outstretched in a “V”. They were pulled taut by imaginary strings that ascended into the infinite reaches of the sky. I was suspended in mid-air: trapped. I tried to kick my legs through the threads of clouds surrounding me, but my body refused to move. I tried to raise a finger, but it was as if an invisible force was sitting atop it. I could only move my head. My body felt an unfamiliar heaviness, and terror gripped me as I realized I could plunge to my death at any moment. I tugged and pulled to no avail, helpless against my unseen captor. My body slackened as I accepted my imminent demise, and as I closed my eyes, I began to fall, fall for all eternity. Only then did the darkness around me shy away, allowing the clouds to return to their white, silky state. And as the whining wind grew calm, a pair of hairy hands plucked me out of the sky. The hands became branches above my head as I awoke from my dream. I could hear the sweet sound of singing birds, and the roaring of the Brod River. I was home.

Casey Abrahams ’15

The Dream of Being Trapped in the Sky

Pillars of Salt 7Octavia Leclerc-Jones ’14

8 Pillars of Salt

Marred Cherry WoodScratches etchedinto cherry wood.Light gray and erratic,they form an unlikely patternthat dances across the wood floor,stretching out endlessly,like a field of daisiesswaying in a tranceat the base of a mountain.The markings roughenthe smooth cherry,leaving fingertips a signof what has been roaming.

Sage Malecki ’14

Pillars of Salt 9

The summer night--like most this time of year--was humid and so we left the windows open to let the warm, damp breeze waft in. The screens kept most of the nasty little bugs out, but every now and then one gets in and we scream for Dad to come and kill it for us. Allison, my little sister, and I share a room in our tiny little house located on 12304 Bishop Court. Our town is small and quaint, with a bunch of white houses lined up like dominoes along the streets. We aren’t very rich; we get new clothes about once a year, near Christmas. We make do with what we have. We can’t afford a ton of fancy things like brand new cellphones and computers; we have one home computer and Dad has a laptop for work. We’re not allowed to use it. Mom and Dad both have cell phones, but not those Apple ones. They’re smaller and open and close like a clam shell. Even though we don’t have fancy technology or money to go out to movies and stuff, Alli and I still have fun. We play outside after school, watch TV on rainy days, and read. We read a lot, actually. We practically live at the library. My favorite books are mysteries. I like the suspense. I always open the book to the very last page and read the last sentence before I actually read the book. I don’t know why, but I do. It’s an odd habit of mine. Alli, on the other hand, likes adventure and fantasy books. The only way Alli likes to read is to lay down and place her legs up against a nearby wall so she makes an L with her body. It’s fun to watch her do that in the library and see all the other people get super confused. Sometimes, the cranky old librarian, Mrs. Wells, will come over and scold us for bothering the other readers. Tonight, like most nights, we were in bed reading. And by ‘in bed,’ I mean ‘pillow fort’. At night, Alli has to take off her glasses and so I read to her aloud. She lay on her back, her legs sticking up into the air as she listened to James and the Giant Peach. We’ve mastered the art of being quiet. We’ve been caught by Dad many times before. We’d hear his light

Summer Night

10 Pillars of Salt

steps as he would approach the door and we’d scramble to strike down the fort and get into bed before he came in. It took us a little while before we got the hang of it. We can usually get through a book a week, if Dad doesn’t catch us and make us go to bed before we’ve even finished the chapter. During the summer, though, Dad’s a little more lenient and lets us stay up half an hour later than usual. “Bee?” Alli asked as she moved to sit cross-legged across from me. My name is Bridget, but when Alli was little, she couldn’t pronounce my name, and just decided to call me Bee instead. I’ve never corrected her. She’ll probably still be calling me that when we’re old and cranky like Mrs. Wells. “Yeah?” “Do you ever think about leaving home and going on an adventure?” She looked at me with her big, green doe eyes. “I dunno.” I shrugged. “Sometimes I think it could be fun. But think about Mom and Dad--we’d worry them. Maybe when we’re older we can go on an adventure.” Alli sighed and put her chin in her palm as she drew doodles with her fingernail in the carpet. “Alli--” I began, but was immediately interrupted by an almost angry Alli. “You don’t think we can do it, do you?” “What?” My eyebrows shot up. “I never said that,” I countered, shaking my head. “I just said we have to wait till we’re older.” Alli frowned and stood up. “Fine.” She began taking down the fort. There was no arguing with Alli; she was so defiant. I sighed and got up too, helping her fold the blanket up before putting it aside. I tucked Alli in, making sure the blankets were nice and snug how she liked it. I smiled as I watched her turn onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow as

Pillars of Salt 11

she put her legs in a figure 4 sort of shape so she looked like a flamingo but laying down; she was such an odd little creature. I hoped she never changes. “Goodnight, Alli.” “Goodnight, Bee.” I laid down on my bed and pulled the blankets up to my neck. I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing the familiar glow-in-the-dark star constellation.

Katie Hershey Van-Horn ’14

12 Pillars of Salt

Ruby and Mitchint. circus tentRUBY and MITCH (two teenagers, perhaps no more than 17) are standing around a roped-off area; above them a group of aerialists perform dazzling tricks on silks and ropes. RUBY is wearing eclectic clothing; her socks are wildly mismatched and her linen jacket is wrinkled but well-cared for. MITCH is more pristine, the lines of his careful button-down neatly pressed. They are standing close enough to each other to suggest comfort and tension, but far enough from each other to suggest embarrassment.After a moment of silence:

MitchI - I, uh - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -

RubyNo, no, it’s fine, I shouldn’t

have -Mitch

I just... Kenna told me that you -Ruby

Well, you know Kenna. She’s always saying -Mitch

Yeah, but this time... she said something about you and -RubyWhat?Mitch

Uh, just that, you know... That you wouldn’t mind being kissed.Ruby

Well, she was right -

Pillars of Salt 13

Mitch(with stunned disbelief )

She was right?

RUBY ignores the implication for the moment.

RubyWhat girl doesn’t want to be kissed, Mitch? ... Was that all?

MITCH shakes himself slightly and gulps to regain his courage.

MitchAnd, uh, that... you wouldn’t mind being kissed... by me.

A heavier pause now as MITCH watches Ruby’s upturned profile. She blushes under his stare but keeps her attention on the twirling aerialists.

Ruby(with the air of one thinking ‘f**k it’)

Yeah. She wasn’t wrong.

This is a pleasant surprise for Mitch. His bottom lip trembles and Ruby finally turns to look at him.

MitchRuby, I - I didn’t mean to overstep a boundary, you know, earlier -

RubyYou, um. You didn’t.

MitchSo... it was OK?

14 Pillars of Salt

RUBY gives him a small smile and surprises him further by reaching for his hand and slowly weaving her fingers between his. They share a smile. RUBY then turns to gaze up at the aerialists.

RubyAren’t they beautiful?

MITCH smiles and steps closer to her, gripping her hand a little more tightly.

MitchVery... They remind me of birds.

RubyCrows or sparrows?

Mitch(with a chuckle)

More like parrots.

RUBY hums and focuses on a particular aerialist who is moving fluidly through his silk, jolting his limbs in a way that looks akin to jumping.

RubyThat one looks like a flying squirrel.

MitchCousin to a monkey.

RUBY laughs and looks up at him. Ruby

You’re the monkey!

Pillars of Salt 15

MitchI do take my bananas very seriously.

RUBY watches him for a moment with a combination of bemusement and wonder.

RubyYou’re allowed to, you know.

MitchI’m allowed to what?

RubyKiss me again.

MITCH just stares at her for a moment, his gaze lingering and softening. Taking utmost care, he leans forward to brush his lips against hers. RUBY and MITCH fold into each other, their lines blurring; it becomes impossible to tell where one of them ends and other begins.

A second later, the aerialists finish their dance. At the sudden burst of applause, RUBY and MITCH look up, wondering if the people are clapping for them. But when the teens realize that they are just another part of the backdrop, they smile at each other, lost in the silk.

Emily Ward ’15

16 Pillars of Salt

It’s always the left socks.Never the right.Every third Friday of the month,They disappear. I’m left limply holding a polka-dotted and striped mate-less pair,Forcing them into unholy matrimony.But they too are like me,Far too scarred to ever recover from the lossOf their cherished friend. Those left socks have found left sock heaven, I say!A place without lint or stinky feet.A place without the prejudice of those elitist right socks.A better place.A nirvana that can only be achieved by travelingDeep into the recesses of the dryer,Or by escaping my tyrannical gripOn the way to the fluff and fold. In mourning of my abandonment,I run.I stomp.I trudge,In anger,For they have left me behind for a cleaner world.

Alone,I march forth to Target.(Always in sandals).

Left Sock

Pillars of Salt 17

I find the closest pack of hosiery,Bear my pearly whites into the plastic,And rip it openTo get to my dearly beloveds. The workers don’t understand the adrenaline rush.They say things like,“Miss, you haven’t paid for those yet”,Or“Please put down the socks, I’m calling security.” But I don’t care,I dance around in my new socksI hop.I skip.I prance,In jubilation,Until the next third Friday of every month.

Tracey Thompson ’16

18 Pillars of Salt

There’s something in the corner of my eye. It’s something I can’t see, hidden just between the crease of my nose and eyelid. It’s right there, just out of reach, just unnoticeable. The more I stare, the harder it is to see the world around me, harder to catch glimpses of a larger reality. My whole life force centered on one little detail, one small insignificant thing that takes all my attention. I should look away, but everyone always tells me “perfection is in the details.” So I keep searching for that tiny thing I know must be there. Then other voices come through my deaf ears, “don’t miss the forest through the trees,” and I stop, unsure. When do I look at the details and when do I notice the world? It’s all so messed up, so hypocritical, so foolish. When I open my eyes to how large the world is, I understand how utterly alone we are. Yet, when I look at the tiny details I see that humans are so large. We have so much power; too much power and knowledge that shouldn’t be known. So how do I fit? Am I a detail or the background? Am I noticed or tossed aside? I suppose it depends which people are looking, the ones who look at the trees, or the ones who see the forest. Because really aren’t they the same thing? Don’t the details make the background? Couldn’t you miss both if you were too caught up in the illusion of living? Caught in the constant storm of movement that escalates the more you sit in silence, and the tide dragging you away the more you look at the details and the more you look at the world around. It all becomes so deafening, so loud, but I can’t stay here, unsure which thoughts are from reality and which are from my dreams. Stuck in this never-ending halfway point between detail and background–one too small to notice, the other too large to deserve awareness. Maybe this thing–the thing at the corner of my eye–will tell me what I need to know. If I could only grab it, if I could only see it clearly, I’d know everything. So I stare, looking closely, squinting my eyes into tiny slits of glass through which I can barely see. And I notice now what I am: a detail in the background. Just waiting to see something I know might not be there. I wait... wait. How do I escape from this endless waiting? Why do I stand still as the

Specifics

Pillars of Salt 19

world swirls around me? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I see the details and the background all at once? Why can’t the world be smaller and our empathy so much greater?

Talia Natoli ’17

20 Pillars of Salt

Sacrament

Samantha Rosenwald

My neighbor is robbed one nightAt gunpointOn the pavement that fronts the house

Where his wife and three year-old sonSleep in a bed behind a folding paper screenThe color of the moon over a milky bay

He throws his wallet—that’s what theywant, the money—if he throws it farEnough they won’t shoot him for

Fifty dollars and a receipt fromThe supermarketAll creased and faded

No one knows who it isBecause there are no street lamps onOur street, only a dark that smells like

Woodsmoke and orange blossoms andFood on a stovetop: papery noodlesAnd borscht, and spaghetti and flour tortillas

The next day our street stews underA red dawn, and the voices ofNeighbors rise

Above the tangle of fruit trees, clotheslinesA plastic pool, two feet deep, in whichMy neighbor’s son sits

Pillars of Salt 21

Unaware that he might haveSpent the night in a hospitalOr precinct station, or morgue

As talk turns to who owns a gunAnd who knows how to use oneAnd why no one ever thinks to call the police

The street’s childrenUpend plastic cups of pool-waterOver the crowns of their heads

Lift their chinsTo a burnished skyBaptizing themselves in hungry summer

Emily Piccard ’14 *Poet Laureate Runner Up

22 Pillars of Salt Talia Natoli ’17

Pillars of Salt 23

There is a ferocity with which the wind whips across your faceand hurtles you through the air.Gold feathers cut your cheek and the waxis dripping down your arms, down your back,tracing your veins as your blood drums out a war beat.You’re flailing and falling and all you can seeis the sun’s dying flares fragmented across the ocean,shimmering with the steady push and pull of the tide.

There are three doors, isn’t that how it always starts?One leads to hell,

one leads to paradise,and one takes you back to the beginning:

an extra life, a second chance.Three doors, three possibilities.

Now you get to choose. You’re standing on the window’s ledgeand when you look down at the space betweenyou and the water,for the first time, it looks like freedominstead of a cage.Your father is speaking about flying too high;you don’t believe such a thing exists.Outstretching your arms, the feathers glimmer in the sun,and you fall.

You’re in a room with three doors andyour father’s voice calls to you from each one.

Three doors.You open one.

You go back to the start.

Möbius

Talia Natoli ’17

24 Pillars of Salt

You were someone’s child once,you remember this.You had a father who taught you to makelittle birds out of paper and send them flyingout of the window.You’d laugh and watch them wrestle with the wind.Every time they’d wind up sinking into the sea.From your position, it looked like an escape.

Three doors, three chances,and when you open one to look back to the beginning,

you can only see the god-harboring skyand yourself, soaring above.

When the wind catches your golden wings,you can’t help but laugh,and the gods must take it as insolence, as a threat,as a promise that you will never leave these skies,because you get five minutes of undiluted glorybefore Zeus throws you from his domain.You chase after every trace of sunlight that you can,burning it into your skin.Then the wax starts to slide down your back.

There are three doors andthey all lead to the same room.

Three doors, and you will always end up here. You hit the water and feel something collapsing.

Pillars of Salt 25

Your ribs are splintering, splitting open to reveala garden overrun by the desire to keep your wings;a weed that can only grow in the rich black soilof your childish heart. The current envelops you,its water cool and soothing on your armswhere the sun has marked you as its own.The gold feathers drift, blocking the sun’s light. Hello.Bubbles soar from your mouth and wander uptowards the sky, towards your father. Hello, hello.

You’re in a room with three doors.You know how this goes.

Maria Gelabert ’15

26 Pillars of Salt

Cir cuitlight on.

My father, penitent on the kitchen floor,searches for his dropped faith under the ruthlessluminescence invading his mind.

This isn’t true. He sweeps his handsacross the tiles searching for crumbs that he thinkshave spilled onto the floor. All I can think is thatwith his head bowed and the warm lightthat always seems to illuminate memories caressing his skull,this is the first time he has ever looked small to me.

His self has become transparent in the past’s light,or perhaps I have simply learnt to readthe space between us.

light--

Light as truth, light as the revealer of truth--my teeth are blinding in darkness, ivoryin shadow, and stained in the light;there is color before the light illuminates themand there is color after; all light does is change the tone.

--off.

I turn, uncomfortable with thefeeble creature that has overtaken my father,and face the window, my reflection thatcan appear distressingly distant some evenings,

Pillars of Salt 27

like the lighthouse a sailor wants to reach during a storm,and it will stay remote, stay what seems likethousands of miles away for days untilmy vision shrinks back to where I want it to beand I am not distant anymore and the space between meand the window is not so foreign and terrifying in itsseemingly inescapable eternity and I have not beendragged away yet. The flood recedes, the lighthouse gleams.I am still here.

light on.

Pious and searching the floor for his flaws,my father, reflected in the window,distant and brilliant in his transparency--

My soul, illuminated by the pastresting on the windowpane,too wavering to uphold as the distanceshrinks and grows and shrinks once more.

Maria Gelabert ’15

28 Pillars of Salt

When I was younger and alone in the house,I’d play the piano and keepmy foot planted on the damper pedal,listening to the final notes soar and fall like Icarus,and see how long they’d last.See when they’d end.

I’d lean my head against the piano’s lidand listen to the fading notesuntil just a faint vibration remainedhumming against my cheek.Only then would I release the pedal.The notes would end and there’d be onlymy breath left hanging in the air,blood beating through my veins,my body pulsing, and the remnantsof an A minor chord drifting towards the skylight.

My mother would sit next to me,though her body hadn’t entered the house in years,and she would fill the spaceuntil there was nothing but her curly hairand the smell of decaying roses.She’d sit and everything would die around her--the sunlight, hesitating on the windowpane,the echoes of the piano settling like smoke rings on the ceiling,my violent insistence that I did not miss her.

I saw her when I was six,after she was gone.

Swan Song

Pillars of Salt 29

She ran past me towards the horizon, and she looked back, once,but then she turned forwardand kept running into the sun.I don’t know if it was rising or setting--if she rose with the sun ordropped with it from the heavensand sank into the earth’s cold embrace to join her bones.

But my mother’s ghost would rise and set withmy breaths when there was nothingin the house but fading chords from the piano.Then I’d press another key and listen to it fall.

Maria Gelabert ’15 *Poet Laureate Winner

30 Pillars of Salt Katie Hershey Van-Horn ’15

Pillars of Salt 31

INT. WAREHOUSE SASHA (Mid-twenties, a real knockout–in a dangerous way) and JIM (kind of dopey) are back-to-back fighting off a troupe of BAD GUYS.

JIM This is probably a bad time to–

SASHA Yeah, it probably is! (She does a cartwheel kick and knees a BAD GUY right in the nuts)

JIM But I have to say it anyway!

SASHA It can’t wait? (She stabs one of the BAD GUYS through his eyeball) JIM Sasha, I lo– (One of the BAD GUYS pistol-whips JIM, and JIM collapses. Luckily SASHA saves him and drags JIM’s sorry ass out of the warehouse)

SASHA (muttering) What an idiot.

EXT. BUILDINGSASHA and JIM rappel down the side of an enormous glass skyscraper, possi-bly somewhere in DUBAI. They are wearing all black and look VERY COOL.

JIM (looking down) Gee, this is high.

SASHA Keep going.

Premature Declaration

32 Pillars of Salt

JIM Sasha, can I ask you something?

SASHA (sighs) Sure, Jim.

JIM Have you ever been in love? Suddenly, BULLETS begin whizzing around them as a BAD GUY shoots down through a broken window at the top of the BUILDING.

SASHA What the–

JIMI know, I know, it’s a random question.

SASHAShut up and keep rappelling!

JIM Look, it can be a sensitive subject. Plenty of people don’t like to talk about it. Kind of like colonoscopies or–

A BULLET grazes JIM’s arm. He looks down and FAINTS at the combination of height and blood.

SASHA You have got to be joking.

INT. LIVING ROOMSASHA and JIM are hiding a body.

JIM You know, my cousin Meredith is getting married this weekend. My age! Isn’t that just the craziest thing?

Pillars of Salt 33

SASHA Get the feet, will you?

JIM Wow, this guy is heavy. Jeez. I think I might need a second.

SASHA Jim, we’re not even up the stairs yet.

JIM This is a really nice carpet. It seems like a shame to just throw it away like this.

SASHA There’s no way in hell I’m using the hacksaw and Hefty™ bags again.

JIM I think this rug would look great in your apartment.

SASHA Jim, you’ve never seen my apartment.

JIM I was just saying.

EXT. RIVER. SASHA is tying the DEAD GUY to a couple of CINDER BLOCKS while JIM stands around and twiddles his THUMBS.

JIM Really makes you think, doesn’t it?

SASHA What does?

JIM You know...death. Makes you think about how short life is. How pre-cious.

SASHA Jim, we’re assassins.

34 Pillars of Salt

JIM (not seeming to hear her) Really makes you wonder if it’s worth it to be all alone...always…iso-lated. Loveless.

SASHA Shut up and get me another cinder block.

INT. GOVERNMENT BUILDING, probably TOP SECRET. SASHA and JIM are on some kind of SECRET MISSION.

JIM We could die tonight. Do you ever think about that?

SASHA We could die any night. Do you have the hand grenades?

JIM Really gets you thinking, huh? About everything you wish you’d done. Everything you wish you’d said.

SASHA (hacking into a TOP SECRET BUNKER) Uh huh. Sure.

JIM I just have to say this. You know, just in case. Sasha, I lov– Suddenly, a bunch of ARMED GOVERNMENT AGENTS run into the BUNKER. They are yelling really loudly in RUSSIAN or SOMETHING.

SASHA Shit.

INT. AIRPLANE. SASHA and JOE are preparing to SKYDIVE into enemy territory. Hundreds of feet below, BOMBS are blowing up and other NASTY SHIT is going down.

Pillars of Salt 35

JOE Sasha, I gotta tell you something.

SASHA Oh my god, Joe.

JOE Just-just in case something happens, ya know–like, my parachute doesn’t open. Or my left arm gets blown off. Or we land in a river and get eaten by hungry croc–

SASHA I get it, you’re trying to say that you love––

JOE (as he is suddenly blown from the airplane door and inflates his para-chute) THIS TOOK LONG ENOUGH!

SASHA You have terrible timing, you know that?

Grace Piccard ’14

36 Pillars of Salt

Vivre par le soleil dit ma mere, ma mere de sel et de soleil et manches retroussees ses mains sur le rebord de la fenetre la levure sous ses doigts Faire l’amour par la lunedit ma mere, ma mere de néons et le parfum comme les forêts une cigarette entre ses doigts blanche, la fumée levant la nuit est noir et plein de les mystéres

Translation:

Live by the sunsays my mother,my mother of salt and sunand rolled-up sleevesher hands on the windowsillflour between her fingersLove by the moonsays my mothermy mother of neon and perfume like forestsa cigarette between her white fingersthe smoke risingthe night is dark and full of mysteries

Grace Piccard ’14 *Modern Classical Language Poet Laureate Winner

La Spirale

Pillars of Salt 37

What If

Walking by yourself along the ocean,Thinking about that someone.Reminiscing about a supposed love,Remembering the beauty of childhood.

Have you ever had regrets,Too bad you can’t rewind time.If I could redo everything,I definitely would choose differently.

In the end you’re just a passerby,The heartbreak at the beginning.Now is just a joke,Because I was wrong.

What’s supposed to come,Always will.What is your’s,Will always be yours.Let go,

So you can love yourself the day you deserve

Julia Chen ’15 *Modern Clasical Language Poet Laureate Runner Up

38 Pillars of Salt Talia Natoli ’17

Pillars of Salt 39

Arcadia

Talia Natoli ’17

I found these words buried deep underground,tempting me as I wandered through grassy pastures,humming honey-smooth lullabies to the wind.My toes reached for the dirt, the arcane cocoon of language, of thoughtinvaded my mind as I observed my surroundings.The ground squelched,and the heartbeat thrumed the steady rhythm of Acadia—deep green sleeping sounds.I swayed gently, allowing myself to slip into a trance and be taken away,away from this reality,moving towards the promised land.

The Pillars of Salt Staff

Thanks for reading. See you next year!

Cece Bobbitt ’15