Read Small, Smart Mice in the Wall: the Gunston Poetry Magazine 2015 Page 2


  Stealing a piece of pie was fair game,

  Even though grandma caught us every time.

  Tag out on the sun-charred lawn

  With mosquitoes stinging our legs.

  Kick the can devolved into

  ‘who can sneak past mom to get the first aid kit’

  Scratches and bruises bloomed on our limbs,

  But the can was always worse off.

  -- Lucy Rissmeyer

  Untitled

  Whenever I have an idea for a drawing

  I spend 20 minutes staring at the paper

  I’m scared of messing up

  I’ll start to make a mark

  And my heart skips a beat

  Because there is no way i can ever do anything right on the first try

  I usually end up crumpling the paper

  And giving up

  I wish i could just make my mark

  But I can’t really have that much faith in myself

  -- Katherine Rolader

  Breathe

  You fight against the current,

  You beat the waves aside.

  But if you keep on treading water,

  there’s no way that you’ll survive.

  The waves are pulling you under.

  You’re drowning and it’s too deep for you to stand.

  Above there’s people yelling,

  But no one seems to know, it’s too dark to see their hands.

  Now you’re losing consciousness, yet still there’s hope that you’ll live and you’ll be free...

  And then suddenly you realize, you can’t survive if you can’t breathe.

  -- Samantha Whichard

  mir·ror, n.

  Looking glass that tricks my mind,

  showing me what I want to see.

  beautiful melted minerals

  contemplated for the most selfish creatures,

  and horror of the vulnerable ones,

  repression on an image

  limited by reality.

  “oh” imperfect impression

  that I want to control.

  let me contemplate you

  -- Carlos Lemus

 
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