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Elizbeth Bachmaye ’16
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Ode To That Box So Foul
(My apologies to Shakespeare.) When the morning sun shines through the room, And Bob the trash man collects the cans, And Tom the janitor picks up the broom, And the only sound is the dorm room fans; When the covers are thrown, and you shoot a scowl, Then loudly sings that box so foul, Bo-beep,…
A Liar’s Fire
Walk with me, this guided curveSwaying, while you swiftly swerveTaste the breeze, in the airCry out to the voices, in utter despairFollow now, this burning coalInevitably, it will swallow you wholeSuch a terrifying assumptionThese threats of consumptionJust wait for the eruptionIt will cause such suctionBend what is realSo you may concealBend it in twoTo hide…