Northern_Lights_2016

36 Star ’ s Reverie Becca Simon The cusp of summer winds prolongs waking from our delicate dream whispering wistfully of eternity. Too long, and not long enough, the clouded sea has entertained our fleeting cotton candy fantasy sequestered by the rocky banks of Proteus’ elusivity. Sun halfway set, the diner at 3 in the afternoon; coca cola glasses clink in concord with time’s constant pestering as a plane roars recklessly over the bay. The bullfrogs’ melancholic chorus closes the seventh day of the seventh moon, when the celestial bridge of leaves crumbles and falls and Vega stands solitary on the astral dock left to contemplate the transience of a day. Should the ferryman try to separate our reveries across the vast expanse of the Milky Way, I’ll hide his oars and throw them away to keep you from dashing out amongst the stars. Shattered Reflection Your life is like a fantasy To everyone but you You sparkle and shine in front of a crowd But on your own, the façade you’ve concocted shatters You disintegrate like glass And if I prick myself on your edges, I bleed Red mixing with the transparency of crystal You bear scars—but no one sees them How can you show off something you regret? You’re the opposite of me— how can I forget? When we are mirrored, my flaws are emphasized But you don’t see them You only see beauty And I don’t understand. Because all I see is my own pain, my own scars Reflected in you And you are not broken, But I think I am. Lindsey Wilson