The Plume 2017 Spring

THE PLUME

The literary magazine of Keystone College, Spring 2017

Photo by Joanna E. Wallace

51

THE PLUME

The literary magazine of Keystone College, Spring 2017

Ode to My Little
Black Dress

by Bridget Benko

On dull Monday mornings laid flat on a hanger,
Tucked away amongst other things.
But on bright starry Saturday nights,
Strewn over my body full of life.

Black lace lay over a silky satin,
A thousand little flowers all strung together,
A neckline deep and a hemline short
To get all the looks,
Only caring about the bad looks
From men, distant in the night.

Paired with black stilettos,
Four inches, clicking,
Scraping, on a dance floor.
The strutting and swinging of hips,
Swaying the little black dress,
Back and forth in a perfect rhythm.

Now, rigid hands on curved hips,
The hands of a man, a real man,
Twirling and swaying to the melody.
His hands, the soul to that perfect rhythm,
Guiding and leading.

After a night of being twirled around,
From the freedom and fun of a Saturday night,
Back to the reality of Monday,
That little black dress lay flat on a hanger,
Lifeless, as I reach for my Monday morning pantsuit.

52

THE PLUME

The literary magazine of Keystone College, Spring 2017

Hands of Loneliness

by Bridget Benko

The city is so busy. Cars, bumper to bumper, one right behind the other. Drivers
laying on their horns as if they are eagerly awaiting to arrive at the next red light.
Cars of dull colors: black, white, and silver, with the occasional yellow taxi in
between. The heavy droplets of rain won’t stop these city goers, as their windshield
wipers swipe at an over-dramatic speed forcefully pushing the rain away, as if
it carries some kind of disease. But the rain continues to fall, drop after drop.
Stepping out of my apartment, my pink rain boots splash in a puddle causing a
ripple in the water. The smell of rain in the city is heavy, not pure. It carries the
smell of poverty and the city’s trash. The people on the streets pass by with their
heads down, starring, as if they are hoping to find crystal clear answers in the dirty,
cloudy, rain puddles of the city. Nope, no answers there. I know, because if I stare
hard enough into one of those puddles, I can see us standing on Cherry Street and
him rushing into that faded yellow taxi, leaving me lonely. Still wondering why I
look for him, I put my hood up on my pink raincoat. As I walk along the street,
I wonder what we must look like to the bird’s eye view. Maybe a bunch of sad,
damp souls wondering the streets of New York, trying to escape the wet hands of
loneliness. As I search for it, hoping to find it in the form of a faded yellow taxi cab.

Photo by Alyssa D. Jacobs

53

THE PLUME

The literary magazine of Keystone College, Spring 2017

Between You, Me,
and a Blank Canvas

I feel you beneath me by Nyasia A. Smith
Smooth and patient
Anxious and wondering Praying for your approval
How I will dress the rest of my brief Your freshness is overwhelming and I
Occupancy Continue with caution
I find myself nervous, almost White and pure
I cannot go on

805 by Victoria M. Eremo

54

THE PLUME

The literary magazine of Keystone College, Spring 2017

Copy Line Proof

by Kimberly Boland

My favorite superpower is editing. I can destroy anything. Line twelve,
paragraph two, delete line. Nothing is permanent, everything can be altered.
I’m afraid of things that remind me of what I’ve erased; the wrong color
hair is enough to set me off. I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t hear what you were
saying. Delete last sentence of paragraph three. It won’t hurt to give up on
your challenges. It won’t hurt if you just do it. Change bold to italicized. You
don’t need the comma after that word. Fragments of me are all I have left. I
carry them here in my purse. I carry your heart with me, still, even though
you’ve been gone for years; it’s staining the leather and it was hard to find
and dig out of the bottom of my purse with my blunt nails. Italicize the title
to remain consistent. My suggestion is to rework this passage like how we
discussed on the phone. No, I won’t rewrite it for you.

Editing is my favorite superpower. I can fix anything. I can help you get this
to the level you dreamed it would be, and every time I watch it all come
together, I feel the same will happen someday with my own dreams, too.
Stanza four, line five should be an em dash instead of a hyphen. Put a period
after your ellipses if they end the sentence. Change that to an em dash. The
word you’re looking for is teal: the car is teal, the dress is teal, the book, the
ribbon, the memory. Delete the comma after “what” and add a comma after
“the.” Give me something to edit, please, let me get nestled in between lines
and letters. My talents have purpose, my actions have good intent. Add an
em dash here. Right here. Where I’m pointing. I circled it. Thank you for
trusting me. Thank you for listening to me. Now that you’re going to take this
piece of your soul laid bare out into the world, I want to wish you the best of
luck with its reception: I thought it was lovely and powerful and…no, wait, I
missed it: you need another em dash.

55