To 2015 - 2016
To Fall 2015
Candelabella

By Sherry Luo

  1. Untitled
    Untitled
    By Audrey Hirshberg, 10
  
Burning.
Where?
Everywhere.
Every follicle, every pore,
ssssteaming, sssstinging
Sneezing embers.
 
They said that as a candle
I would be incandescent, luminescent
Every -escent in the world,
A Sirius among stars.
That’s why
The match was struck.
 
I can’t run from it
And when I scream no one can hear me.
 
In my head the heat’s the worst,
Where a beastly, fearsome fever
Has come in to roost and roast.
Every coherent thought vanishing like a wisp of smoke,
The ether itself tearing at my very essence.
 
I want to writhe, thrash,
But my body’s rigid,
Nearly numb with pain.
 
They fan the fire
To coax more light out of me
But all they see is the
Beauty of the flickering, growing flame
And how prettily the light reflects
Off infinite scalpel-like facets
 
 
Can’t you see
What’s happening to me?
My flesh cries
Broiling, buttery, pearly tears.
They painfully and slowly make their way down my sides,
Taking their sweet, luxurious time,
Cutting rivulets of fire through my rendered skin,
Leaving bleeding blisters in their wake.
 
Time ruthlessly
Re-lent-less-ly ticks on,
And I am a humpbacked crone,
With sagging cheeks and impressive wrinkles
A stunted, pitiful thing.
What parts of me that have not sloughed off yet
Cling still to my sinking self
 
Drowning
I’ve spent all of my tears
On pain that I cannot even recall
I lift up my chin to keep my head above as long as I can
And see
For the first time
The true colors of the sky
Why didn’t I notice them before?
I lived to forget
And then forgot to live
 
Fire does not dance
It quivers in fear.
Departure in a prayer of curling smoke
A death as fleeting as my life.
 
  
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