A.
This is a beginning
under the oak trees
where midwestern
boys burned their throats
with their father’s liquor
bottles. Girls came to
kiss at night, leaving cigarette burns
to scatter the ashes of their innocence.
This is a beginning in the quiet town
where we know real architecture
and real sounds of bullets. Both arch
over our heads and we embrace
these strange halos.
B.
This is a resolution
that we’ll leave the soil
where southern twang top
sour songs like syrup.
where everyone knows how to
strum a guitar,
and every girl sings Dolly Parton
for the elementary pageant.
This is a resolution
that we’ll fly to great cities
where skyscrapers make
us feel minuscule.
Magnificent things will seep into our minds,
all the urban ideas and emotions.
A.
This is a return
to the town where she never
thought she belonged. But
mother’s hand grew feeble,
fingers like brittle bird bones.
Father drove off into the
southern night years ago,
gone when the midnight ink
drenched his silverado.
Sarah Nachimson is an emerging writer with only a small scattering of published pieces. She hails from sunny California and is currently a sophomore at Yeshiva University Los Angeles Girls School. She is a reader for Polyphony H.S. and an editor for Siblini Journal. Her writing has been recognized by numerous organizations, including Scholastic, and published in the Los Angeles Times and New York Jewish Week, among other places.
Visual Art by Audrey Carver.