Two Poems
Marsh Caro
Vó means Grandmother
You stand before me, aged like fine wine.
An immeasurable wall of glass between us,
Our words reach no ears but our own.
Someday, I will break this barrier.
I’ll know it better than my native tongue,
Your stories will sound as clear as a summer’s day,
Before your hair is as white as snow.
Eventually, I will break this barrier.
An arduous game of charades.
Picking out what I recognize from my classes,
So little said with so few words.
Hopefully, I will break this barrier.
Has the glass always seemed so dense?
Much left to learn, but in comes college and parties,
I must still have time, right?
Later, I will break this barrier.
Now you’ve gone beyond a new barrier I cannot touch.
Still, a lonesome wall of glass stands before me, subtly cracked,
Would you hear me if I keep trying?
Hoje, estou quebrando essa barreira.
My Favorite Word
Bittersweet.
Like your last chug of sugary milk,
Scooping out the last stray bits of cereal,
Always wanting one more sip.
Like your victory lap in Go-Karts,
Adrenaline pumped and with a huge grin,
Wishing you could play one more race.
Like the last day of vacation with friends,
Skimming through all the photos you took together,
Hoping you could stay one extra week.
Like sitting by your grandmother’s bedside,
Her frail hand clasped in yours,
Knowing today’s the day.
Nothing is more bittersweet,
Than knowing something you cherish,
Is about to end.
Marsh Caro is a junior majoring in Visual Arts. He writes, “taking a Creative Writing course really helped remind me of another great outlet for expressing myself. I hope to do more in the future!”