The Strings
By Sareth Grunert Behind the stage the bassist wiggles his shoe off To hold his music upright So there will be no digging into the floorboards for a career Because it is the passion that is uncovered In the humid classroom The violinist shuts her eyes As if to feel the music Vibrating her calloused fingertips In the dark basement the guitarist Whispers love and loss into the wire Fingers dancing across the tightrope Manifesting As if to see the face once more There is always an emotional connection to an object that can make or break you A bow that dances across the thick wire Fingers that know how to do the waltz They are the sword unsheathed ripping our plane of existence Into knowledge of the abstract Every drip of sweat is physical evidence of the passion intensified A small crease between your near invisible brows Showing the concentration it takes To create |
Mirror Mirror
By Sareth Grunert As women we have the worst views of our bodies Looking down from above at every imperfection Like looking down from a building that you have been told to jump from The mirror is a liar It calls you fat My dear I am not a liar And you are so beautiful Protruding bones Twisted knobs from which you gauge your self worth on Distorted from the ideas of Large Thinness is not equal to self worth Your self worth is who you are Deep inside of your soul The shining amethyst That is always there You are so much more beautiful That just your aesthetics You are so much deeper than your cuts 800 calories Is not enough to nourish The 800 good things that come to mind with your name Dreading dinner is not fair Reducing food intake to none Because the mirror is a liar I’m so sorry it calls you fat My dear I will never lie to you and you are beautiful |
Final
Preassessment
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Hands up
By Sareth Grunert The first time we raised our fingertips toward the sky was when the teacher told us to ask permission when we question And that “invaluable” questions were discarded because they belonged to invaluable people We tried raising them higher Squirming so you could see us But I was not deemed worthy of an answer To why I couldn’t receive an answer The second time we raised our hands was to block the fists Because we were misfit Into the system that we were haphazardly tossed tossed into At five And our existence somehow wronged you Our frailties begged for your lack of mercy And the galaxy bruises across our skin The third time we raised our hands was to cover our eyes Because the bombs kissed the pristine landscape That we will never see Because taboo is taboo No matter the moral No matter the horrors The fourth time we raised our hands was walking home from 9th grade When the officer screamed Because color incorrect A 15 year old is an oblivious threat We never raised our hands again Not even to fight For everything we were told was wrong Not to ask a question Because those were are not worthy of being called upon Not because a policeman said so Because we resided behind bars Not to block a punch Not that they didn’t come We just learned to love The different kind of miserable Because we adapted to the silk sofa that we plug our tv into We’ve adapted to nuclear bombs Rising death tolls We’ve adapted To the smile across the lips of those who own us Hands up |
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