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Emma Chace

 

I

With wonder,

And elation. Something

Is out there, if only we could find it.

 

II

In pregnant pauses

An expectation of a world

Which may or may not match

The one you think you know.

 

III

As a sailor charts his path

On the open sea with its reflection

Down below him.

 

IV

The stars make pictures,

Someone Told Me Once.

I don’t remember what they are.

 

V

A hurried upward look, in passing

Revealing more than you’d like to,

I think. I think that often.

 

VI

Did you believe the stars were trapped

In the sky? No, not trapped at all.

Surely you’ve looked into a child’s eyes.

 

VII

The stars with the sticky side.

On the homework you finished.

On a shirt in a store on the street

Somewhere.

 

VIII

On a flag flying high

Over its homeless veterans and

Its starving poor.

 

IX

The one which makes your eyes

Squint. The flowers grow.

The smell of burning flesh

On both what is consumed,

And that which consumes it.

 

X

Blankets under bodies

Over bare earth

Staring, waiting, breathing.

This is love.

 

XI

Hiding behind their wisps

Outshined by the moon

Harmonizing with the wolves

Which serve another master.

 

XII

Death, and life, those who

Bury the dead, and those who die.

The stars shine the same.

 

XIII

I think I heard them in a lullaby.

You’re never alone, really.

That’s what I’ve been told.


 

Emma Chace is studying Psychology and Philosophy with a minor in German in the School of Arts and Sciences Honors Program. She is from East Brunswick, New Jersey, and spends most of her free time reading, writing, and watching movies. She will be graduating in May of 2023.

Emma wrote this poem in Paul Blaney’s Creative Writing Honors course in the fall semester of 2020. Blaney selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.