marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 3 marginal. Hopkinton High School’s Literary Magazine Volume 9 Spring 2024 Hopkinton High School c/o Marginal 90 Hayden Rowe Street, Hopkinton, Massachusetts, 01748 508.497.9830 [email protected] https://hhsmarginal.wordpress.com
marginal. 4 Volume 8 – 2023 FICTION 17. Grounding Madelyn Godfroy* 20. Kindness: Stitching a Fragmented World Yixuan Li* 32. Jack and the Unmanageable Workload of Capitalism Cam Highwater 47. Siren Cade Sanborn* 56. The Princess and I Holly Thompson* 68. And the Summer Was Over Sahasra Charkam* 71. Cyborg Max (an excerpt) Amy Liu 87. Buzz of Frogs Cade Sanborn* 104. Out of the Woods Holly Thompson* 107. Nothing is Real Zachary Krymgold* 115. The Outside World Harrison Gu* 120. Fireflies Ava Pappalardo POETRY 9. The Election Jude Shorbaji 11. “i fell in love with the moon” Kaesha Rajgor* 24. afraid of Emily Evans* 27. Handle With Care Ashley Callery* 29. Preschool Julia Zhu* 35. Like Mother, Like Daughter Piyusha Majgaonkar 37. Terror Emily Evans* 40. Remember, Rabbit Tenneille Munn* 44. Diorama of Woman May Chen 64. A Portrait of Dementia Juliet Findlen* 67. Loved by a Writer Abigail McFarland* 84. Used Morgan Prophet* 97. do you know how to live? Ishita Urs 101. Paper Cup Liliana Vance 111. Precede Vaagmi Shukla 113. A-Rose Ayah Kurdi* 124. Senryu Series Cam Highwater 126. Petals of Deception Piyusha Majgaonkar ESSAYS 52. Creation Within Destruction Ava Pappalardo 98. Biscuits and Boardgames Sanya Bhagat* COMMENTS 7. From the Advisor 15. 2024 Art Contest 43. 2023 Poetry Contest 55. 2024 Senior-Write-Is Contest 86. 2023 Fiction Contest 128. How to Submit, How to Join, and How We Work * indicates student’s first appearance in Marginal
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 5 ARTWORK Cover. Not Everything is Meant to be Mended Annaleigh Crantz* 8. Snow Globe Zacharia Awan* 10. We Can Reach the Sky Kaylee Steir 14. Embracing the Braids Pascaline Tetteh* 16. Self Portrait: Daydream Jianing Huang 19. Butterfly Oasis Sophia Matsoukas 23. Oni Vera Zieger* 26. I Thought This Was the Melting Pot Yixuan Li* 28. Islamophobia: Who is Silencing Whom? Ayah Kurdi* 31. Bridge Finn Durocher* 34. “Smile!” Braden Lu* 38-39. From Home to Home Nevaeh Tamba* 42. Dissonance Macy Mckibben* 46. Triptych: Digital Flowers Madeline Fitzpatrick* 51. Game Over Tori Jackson* 54. A Portrait in Color Maeve Swab 63. Milky Way Madhav Warrier* 66. Cool Breeze Pascaline Tetteh* 70. Self Portrait: Submerged Jianing Huang 83. Peeking Naomi Lambert 85. Fracture Evan Fitzpatrick* 96. Perception Finn Durocher* 100. Insectophobia Esha Bennet* 103. Eyes of Evaluation Roma Tewari* 106. Floral Serenity Sophia Matsoukas 110. Somewhere Out There Kaylee Steir 112. Snapshot Bableen Gill* 114. Mother’s Love Jessica Fan 125. Hiroshima and Nagasaki: The Paradox of Atomic Defense Ayah Kurdi* 127. Max and Cheese Vera Zieger* * indicates student’s first appearance in Marginal
marginal. 6 Volume 8 – 2023 MARGINAL 2024 Volume 9 Head Editors Anna Noroian Emily Evans Editors May Chen Ayah Kurdi Assistant Editors Jesse Chen Jude Shorbaji Kaitlyn Wilson Faculty Advisor Mr. Lally Marginal is the annual literary magazine created by the students at Hopkinton High School. Volume 8 was created using Microsoft Word and a run of 100 copies was printed by Instant Publisher, Memphis, Tennessee. The text is set in Garamond (text) and Marion Regular (titles), and the cover and header font is Verb. The magazine was printed on 80# white high gloss enamel stock, with a perfect-bound cover with UV coating gloss. The cover artwork is an acrylic and watercolor work by Annaleigh Crantz. The magazine costs $10 and the proceeds fund our printing of the subsequent edition and our contest prizes.
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 7 From the Advisor Our biggest fear this year was having a post-COVID-survival decline of the interest in our writing contests that had begun back around 2020, and more importantly, in our number of art submissions, which blew the roof off last year. Happily, neither proved to be reasonable concerns, as we had over 120 art submissions and over 130 writing submissions this year. Thank you to all of the students who submitted original work. Where we were caught off guard was in our editing staff, which struggled to come back from the loss of the seniors from the class of 2023. We had some thin meetings, but I would like to thank Anna Noroian and Emily Evans for putting in the real hours to help us get this magazine finished. Thank you also to the rest of the editing staff – your work is very much appreciated. I would like to thank the Hopkinton PTO for again providing the financial means required to keep us running. Thank you also to the Hopkinton Center for the Arts, who have allowed us to sell our magazine in their lobby and for supporting our student artists and writers. Thank you to the NCTE REALM contest, which awarded us their Superior Award and to the ASPA Contest, who honored Marginal with First Place With Special Merit. It is hard to be objective about something you see so closely. Mr. Lally Marginal Advisor
marginal. 8 Volume 8 – 2023 Snow Globe by Zacharia Awan (photograph)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 9 JUDE SHORBAJI The Election Register to vote! Red white and blue pins fly from hand to hand Red white and blue. Red and blue. 1 or 2 A binary trap where everyone loses Register to Vote! 1 or 2 A tiered vote unheard of A third party, blasphemy The Electoral College! designed to snatch a Black’s vote away Register to Vote! Isn’t Trump in jail? The Election was an Honorable Mention in our 2023 Senior-Write-Is Contest
marginal. 10 Volume 8 – 2023 We Can Reach the Sky by Kaylee Steir (digital)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 11 KAESHA RAJGOR “i fell in love with the moon” 1 Year Ago. Heavy, Heavy, Heavy, Too much weight, too Too much. my chest is too tight. air is thinning, water’s closing in, can’t breathe, can’t breath-, I’m sinking, I’m drowning. Vision is blurry, then black, palms dry, not sweaty. cheeks wet, not dry. Eyes dry, And red. Eyes open. It’s dark. It takes a second for me to see, light shines in, from the left, from the glass pane, beside me.
marginal. 12 Volume 8 – 2023 It’s blue. and sparkly. Specks of white, float down, and dance. My legs moved involuntarily, I sat down on the floor, and looked up, into the window. The light was blinding. So strong, So sure, So convinced of its beauty. Plop. plop. 2 wet spots appeared, Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. A dozen more came. I envied the light. If it could be so beautiful, why couldn’t I? 9/1/23 Dear Moon, Thank you. Thank you for helping me. Oh great guru, My chand,
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 13 You taught me, sometimes it’s okay to not feel whole, to be hidden, or to simply not be there at all, as long as you shine, The Brightest, Once a moon. Now, I’m not sure if this is unrequited, but I’m ready to confess. I’m in love with you, the moon that is. if i can’t love myself, at least I can love you, right?
marginal. 14 Volume 8 – 2023 Embracing the Braids by Pascaline Tetteh (acrylic)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 15 2024 Art Contest Editors’ Notes Marginal runs an annual art contest, open to all students, that accepts all styles of artwork. Students can submit as many pieces as they wish, and they do not have to be enrolled in an art course at HHS to qualify. We were thrilled to see that the rise in submissions that we enjoyed for Volume 8 carried over into this year’s competition as well, as we had over 100 art submissions for the second straight year. This year, the editors of Marginal are happy to recognize Annaleigh Crantz for winning our annual art contest for her piece titled, Not Everything is Meant to be Mended. Not only is the piece exquisitely well crafted, but it summarizes the current state of education in the United States – not fully free from the shadow of COVID, but still seeing something beautiful. We are proud to use it as our cover this year. We also wished to acknowledge Jianing Huang’s Self Portrait: Daydream (page 14), which was the runner up in our contest this year. Huang was our winner last year as a freshman, and we were once again impressed by her ability to create a mood (and her technical mastery as well). We are looking forward to her work over the next two years! On page 24 is Yixuan Li’s piece titled I Thought This Was the Melting Pot, which earned an Honorable Mention. This is Li’s first appearance in Marginal, and it is quite an impressive debut. Congratulations, all!
marginal. 16 Volume 8 – 2023 Self Portrait: Daydream by Jianing Huang (colored pencil)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 17 MADELYN GODFROY Grounding My mind is a racing mess of plans and fears and hypotheticals, so I’m going for a walk outside to bring myself back to earth. It has just rained. I run my hand through the leaves of a low tree branch and feel the cool water drip over my skin. The first step of grounding is to list five things I can see: my Nike sneakers, the cracked pavement, lichen on tree trunks, their brittle and twisted branches reaching up, up – The sky is blue-dark, like it had been in the winter mornings before school. On those days it would be cold outside, but inside the house it was always warm and cozy, and I would wish I could stay there all day. I remember my mom walking around the corner of the tight hallway. Looking down, I stared at the line where the colors of the floor planks would switch from the creaky red-brown ones by the bedrooms to the polished yellow-tan ones in the kitchen. I remember my mother wore a close-fit black long-sleeve that accentuated her round belly. I wondered, right at that point, whether the baby could hear us talking, and when I hugged my mom, I sang twinkle-twinklelittle-star into her belly in hopes that the baby would like it. I take four deep breaths in and out and watch the last of the sun glow through the trees. Three things I can hear. Bird calls and my steps in puddles – Two chipmunks scurry across the road, chattering in the fading sunlight. I remember how a few years ago, lying on the couch in midmorning, a kitten climbed up onto the sunny spot on my chest. I remember her little kitten smell and her tiny heartbeat, and how she lay down to sleep in the comfort of my larger, slower heartbeat like that of her mother. She let out a tiny sigh through her black nose and when her eyes closed, I closed mine too, and we slept there in peaceful silence. Two things I can touch. Water droplets on leaves and warm pockets. I turn around at the stop sign and feel the thoughts slow
marginal. 18 Volume 8 – 2023 down and settle into place, in the same way I would imagine how fallen leaves return to the ground after the wind kicks them up. I keep close the memories of kittens and puddles and winter mornings. And when my mind spins, I find them and remember all the things that brought me joy, some of which existed in triumph but most in peace and the kind of love that stays around without saying anything.
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 19 Butterfly Oasis by Sophia Matsoukas (ceramics)
marginal. 20 Volume 8 – 2023 YIXUAN LI Kindness: Stitching a Fragmented World Once upon a time, there was a radio station known as the “Warmth”. Its sole mission was to gather the intricate tales of people around the world. These stories were masterfully woven into books, and generously shared with the world to cultivate the seeds of kindness. Within these narratives, they tugged at the heartstrings and brought listeners to tears. Today, we have some volunteers to share their stories that would heal our hearts. “During my second year of junior high, things took a tough turn when I lost my dad. My mom got remarried, and my sister moved in with her new stepdad. Changing schools wasn’t easy, so I ended up living with my friends. My connection with my late father became even more heavy, especially during the stressful lead-up to college entrance exams. Feeling the weight of it all, I found his number and texted him – or, well, his memory. Surprisingly, I got a response the next morning. That text became a glow of tiny light in my darkest moments, and that text really pushed me forward and gave me the hope to keep going. With this surrogate father cheering me on, I managed to snag a spot at a fancy university in Beijing. We kept texting, and I always feel the fatherly warmth that’s familiar to me. We were like old friends, chatting about everything, sharing anything with each other. I really wanted to meet the guy who always texted with me, in other words, my “father,” but he preferred to not meet me in person. I held back from suggesting a face-to-face, partly to keep what we had, and partly not to bother him. Even on Father’s Day in 2016, when I sent my warm wishes, I got nothing in return. The silence has stuck around. Today, though,
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 21 on this program, I want to spill the beans about my life. If, somehow, destiny makes him hear this, I want to let him know that I successfully graduated from my college, spent three good years working in Shanghai, and life’s moving along. It’s been ages since I dialed that number. I get it; it’s a lot to carry for just a bunch of digits. If he stumbles upon this program, thank you so much, and I hope life’s treating him well.” … “I’m just a young woman doing my own business. And here’s the weird part of my routine – my neighbor kept chucking a pair of leather shoes onto my doorstep. One day, I’d had enough and went over to ask her what the deal was. “If you don’t want these shoes, I’ll get rid of them. My place isn’t a dumping ground.” She looked a bit shocked and mumbled something. I decided to drop it and said we could talk about it later. My nights usually go on pretty late, and one night, I find this note sitting on the shoes. ‘Hey, I live next door. By the time you’re back, we’re knocked out. My grandma’s very sorry – she’s old and has trouble talking. These shoes were my grandpa’s, not junk. She’s worried about you being alone, because you are living by yourself, and you are a young girl. These shoes are a hint that you are living with a man for people who wonder. They can bring you safety. My grandma wants to bring you safety. She is worried about you every night.” … “In a poignant moment of family illness, my emotions crumbled, leaving me in a detached state. While waiting at a red light, contemplating a drastic decision of crossing the street. At this moment, a fragile elderly lady kindly asked me: ‘Young girl, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Could you lend me a helping hand to cross this road?’ In that instant, I teetered on the brink of tears, feeling as though I had encountered my own grandmother. She was surely an angel that was sent to rouse me from my despondency.”
marginal. 22 Volume 8 – 2023 … “Last winter, I battled a high fever in solitude. So, I ordered a takeout with a yearning for a peaceful slumber. However, my canine always barks upon the arrival of food. Therefore, I sent a private message to the delivery driver. I explained my predicament, pleading for a discreet drop-off at my doorstep to facilitate much-needed rest. Several hours later, upon awakening and retrieving the hanging bag of soup, I discovered additional layers within the insulated bag. The soup retained its warmth, accompanied by a message on my phone: I added extra layers of insulation. It’s too cold today, and I didn’t want it to cool down. I hope you get better soon!” … In a world worn and fragmented, the “Warmth” radio station gathered tales of kindness, weaving them into books shared generously with the world. In life’s tapestry, small acts of kindness quietly stitch our world back together. Let’s continue weaving with the enduring power of kindness. As the melody played, a gentle reminder echoed: in a world often worn, kindness always remains a beacon of hope. Kindness: Stitching a Fragmented World was the runner-up in our 2023 Fiction Contest
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 23 Oni by Vera Zieger (printmaking)
marginal. 24 Volume 8 – 2023 EMILY EVANS afraid of what, may i ask, is there to be afraid of? is it the dawn or the dusk? the colors, which paint the sky so beautifully, and signal the coming of a whole new day? is it the night? the wind? one of which is mysterious, wild, awakening the other of which is awakening, wild, mysterious? is it the cold? the heat? these sensations which keep us moving and renewing and, one could say, living? is it the heights? is it the depths? seeing somewhere from a place you never have? learning and growing changing and breathing? is it the aloneness of death? the unknown? the moment where we find out what so many have found out
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 25 yet no one knows? or is it life? a chance we have to fear and to be and to glow and to smile and cry? is the thing to fear only this fear which keeps us from being who we could otherwise be?
marginal. 26 Volume 8 – 2023 I Thought This Was the Melting Pot by Yixuan Li (oil painting)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 27 ASHLEY CALLERY Handle With Care Everything is so delicate and weak. Yet the teapots are warning teacups not to break. They warn them to stay away from the edge of the table, while drawing attention to their brittle, mystifying build. It’s unfortunate when a teacup falls and shatters its beautiful, handcrafted pottery. It was not handled with care. The kitchen will mourn, but eventually its pieces will be swept under a rug. All that will remain are signed, ”FRAGILE”.
marginal. 28 Volume 8 – 2023 Islamophobia: Who is Silencing Whom? by Ayah Kurdi (charcoal pencil)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 29 JULIA ZHU Preschool Was so long ago. Even then, it feels like I was still there just yesterday. I wonder at what time, what age, what moment, did I start having memories? I still remember her brunette hair pulled into pigtails. Blue-gray irises that stole light from the sun, and in the shadows, gave it back out. And her hand in mine as she pulled me down to sit on a carpet of school-themed lexicons, always next to her. Always on the letter “R,” her initial, my favorite character. Her last name, my favorite time of Day. Her flowers,
marginal. 30 Volume 8 – 2023 when I crossed a broken bridge and fractured a part of me, my antidote. A recollection of my life, proof that I, too, was once young: memories. and in my preschool years, like a film director choosing the best shots, She is in every frame.
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 31 Bridge by Finn Durocher (mixed media)
marginal. 32 Volume 8 – 2023 CAM HIGHWATER Jack and the Unmanageable Workload of Capitalism Jack was a poor man, but he dreamed of so much more. The dirt in his one room house was disparagingly similar to his garden. He yearned for work life balance, but it eluded him. Jack was feeling particularly upset one Tuesday morning, so he took a break from his farming duties to go to the market, but he encountered a strange woman who offered him magical seeds for his one and only cow. His poor education shone through like a beam of light in cheap window blinds, and he decided to make the trade but when he planted them the next day, they grew into a massive bean stock. He felt compelled to climb it, but an opportunity presented itself when he grabbed hold and an object fell on his head. The sky wasn’t falling, but the young farmer had struck agriculture gold! The beanstalk showered him with beans every shake, but it wasn’t just one bean, it was everybean! The poor man was quickly flooded by a mountain of Black Beans, Lima Beans, Pinto Beans, Kidney Beans, even chickpeas! Jack realized what he had was a monopoly in the making but not having learned a code of ethics in school, he plotted to kill the mysterious women for fear shed grace everyone’s farm with her magic. He snuck into town in the dead of night and kidnapped her. He had no method of killing her that he could get away with so her threw her under the beans and shook and shook and shook. The woman was crushed to death by beans, but his monopoly was safe, and the body was out-of-sight, out-of-mind. Jack began selling directly from his stock taking the credit for the marvelous line for himself and people would pay to grab handfuls and buckets of beans for themselves. Jack might have been uneducated, but he was no fool. He made sure to shake the beanstalk whenever there were too few beans so as not to reveal the corpse that they hid. One night however, a devious animal claimed refuge in the pile of beans while jack was asleep. Unbeanownst to Jack while the customers stood patiently and watched, the animal lay dormant but just as Jack deemed the pile too small, it leapt out. A
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 33 900-pound behemoth with black dots and four dignified limbs made it’s escape with a loud moo. It was the cow who Jack had sold to the women and escaped to find her after she didn’t return. The beans spread everywhere, and passerby tried to grab free beans in the process. Everyone was shocked by the event, but the cow was not the first thing on their mind. Time froze as everyone witnessed the horrible carcass hidden underneath. The stench radiated through the unhygienic crowd like a rumor in a small town. The body was a horrid green with insects meandering all across. A man in the crowd was the first to throw up, the warm chunkiness grazed another’s leg and the chain had started. Soon there was no way to tell which beans had been previously ingested and which had been lying next to the corpse for weeks. Jack had made his money, but when the public lost faith in him, he looked elsewhere for work and a little boy named John started to climb the stock.
marginal. 34 Volume 8 – 2023 “Smile!” by Braden Lu (graphite pencil)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 35 PIYUSHA MAJGAONKAR Like Mother, Like Daughter They say mother and daughter exist as wretched mirrors of each other How torturous it is to look like one another, and to love one another. Why is it that the same mouth that demands I paint myself in your likeness, scorns her own reflection? Why is it that the footsteps you ask me to follow, tread so lightly that I can barely see their imprint? Why is it that you despise your nose? When you and the women before us held the same feature, although no one remembers their names anymore, we keep their memory alive by wearing that nose every single day Why is it that you underestimate your brown eyes? When they are the same dark pools your mother saw her own reflection in, as she lovingly cradled you in her arms Why do you feel uncomfortable in your copper skin? When it is a constant love affair with the sun that cannot be broken. Don’t you know, you contradict yourself constantly? You want me to be like you. Don’t you know that you barely want to be yourself? So, every morning when you look in the mirror, Realize that it is the biggest star in the solar system that looks back at you. Realize that it is the same spark that exists within your own daughter.
marginal. 36 Volume 8 – 2023 Realize that half of my heart is with the person who created it in the first place. Discover the warmth that exists within your skin, and for the first time, learn to embrace it. Just as you embrace your North Star every morning before she goes to school. Like Mother, Like Daughter earned Third Place in our 2023 Poetry Contest
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 37 EMILY EVANS Terror Sitting in the kitchen with Pain filling up your chest Ragged breathing as the sky falls down outside Where is it falling from? Claustrophobia in the universe. Shaking rolling rumbling As a rocket ship breaks through the ozone layer Everything is so real, surreal, The stars and the rattling And the heat of confinement. Until it isn’t, and Everything controlling your life: Your rocket ship Is in the hands of an angry toddler Who crashes you into a cartoon moon.
marginal. 38 Volume 8 – 2023
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 39 From Home to Home by Nevaeh Tamba (mixed media)
marginal. 40 Volume 8 – 2023 TENNEILLE MUNN Remember, Rabbit Listen up young one, tor there are many tricks a rabbit must learn to survive in a world so turned against us. Remember, the fox is swift, cunning, and silent. You must not let her know you are near, But if she does become aware, run as fast as you can. Faster than you have ever run before. Fast enough to chase the wind. Double back on your trail and hide in the brambles and if luck is kind to you, you may just survive. Always watch the sky, for the wandering eye of the hawk and the eagle as they glide silently above the clouds. You cannot outrun them once they begin their dive. Sometimes, running will not save you. If you sense danger before it senses you and your environment provides a way, hide. Hide somewhere safe and hidden and small.
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 41 Hide somewhere no claws, talons, or teeth will reach. Hide and wait until the sense of danger is long gone. But remember this, it is never truly safe. Man is the most dangerous of them all. Do not be fooled by his unassuming appearance, he is far more dangerous than you could imagine. You cannot outrun his branch of thunder. You cannot escape his gaze. No watching, waiting, or brambled shelter will stop him. He will not be so easily fooled by these ancient tricks. Heed my words, you will be lucky to escape from man. There are many tricks a rabbit must learn to survive in a world so turned against us. You must remember these tricks if you ever hope to survive, young one. Someone must lie on the bottom of the interconnected web of life, and it is our burden to bear.
marginal. 42 Volume 8 – 2023 Dissonance by Macy Mckibben (mixed media)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 43 2023 Poetry Contest Marginal begins each school year with its poetry contest, which invites all students to submit their original poems – regardless of length, topic, or style – to be published in the magazine. This year, we received 63 submissions to the contest, which is among our highest totals ever. The winner of the 2023 Poetry Contest is Diorama of Woman written by May Chen. This win marks May’s second, and as a sophomore, she is establishing herself as one of the most skilled poets we’ve ever printed. As always, her control over language and imagery are impressive and our editors loved this piece. Congratulations, May! Our first runner-up for the 2023 Poetry Contest is Ishita Urs’s do you know how to live?, an ekphrastic poem based on Caspar David Friedrich’s painting, After the Monk by the Sea. Like any good ekphrastic poem, this piece goes beyond explaining the painting, or even simply reworking the image into poetry. Urs does a fine job of getting to the heart of this artwork and using it as a springboard for her own meditation. Wonderfully done. Congratulations, Ishita! The second runner-up for the 2023 Poetry Contest is Like Mother, Like Daughter, by Piyusha Majgoankar. This is Majgoankar’s second straight year being recognized in this contest, and in this piece has once again found an issue worth writing about, and crafted a poem that has a message without sounding preachy, which is hard to do. We loved this poem. Congratulations, Piyusha!
marginal. 44 Volume 8 – 2023 MAY CHEN Diorama of Woman skin taught i learn through the colors of the body. ink spill bruised, blood born galaxies i think back to a time before tree vines wrap within my wrists and i sail down their winding rivers a time when i was happy blushed knees, bent to the will of man Godless：i whisper prayers under my breath like a far-off fairytale. skin taut pulled tight against the soul, sand down my lips to fit your own & leave the shavings to dust a time in which i cannot remember holy water, holy spirit, anything for holy skin. Goddess: i purify myself, putrefied. in my mothers womb i obeyed my country and on this land i wish for a home. // My underbelly aches with hunger a lust for flesh. how primitivei remember being the hunted: hands around my neck, i find myself pressed against bodies; preserved with bloated breaths a new feeling, a new face for the pages meant for flowers. i think to my mothers mask blooming against my own
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 45 in this way i am tied, against her bed: her body. reduced to a bag of blood, i let teeth sink in. // I’m sorry I let them hurt me stray bullets that find a home in my head where bottomless thoughts plant themselves roots that always seem to lead to… pitiless what ifs graze my outline in a familiar pain, I find the whispers that float in the air contaminate my touch to feel cold, I voyage into the simplicity of solitude. and you learn it is your duty to save yourself. Diorama of Woman was the winner of our 2023 Poetry Contest
marginal. 46 Volume 8 – 2023 Triptych: Digital Flowers by Madeline Fitzpatrick (digital)
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 47 CADE SANBORN Siren Cassian gripped the paddles of his tiny wooden rowboat tight as the wind picked up and the waves grew higher and higher, as if they were reaching for God, pleading him to hold back his fury, to slow the winds and lighten the rain. But, of course, God is cruel, and only makes things worse for Cassian in his tiny rowboat in the middle of the sea. Cold, salty water slapped Cassian. His shirt clung to his body like a second layer of skin. Water dripped down his face, and he couldn’t tell how much of it was from the ocean and how much from his own tears. He clenched his teeth as he uselessly thrust his paddle into the waves, trying to move forward, but his meager strength was futile against the raging storm. His tiny rowboat began to fill with water. Instinctively, he grabbed on to the few things he’d brought with him; a cucumber sandwich, sealed in a small bag, a soaked photo of him and his mother, which fell apart in his hands, and his revolver. In the near distance, a wave approached, one distinctively taller than the others. As it got closer, it began to curl, its white-froth teeth, its gaping maw large enough to swallow Cassian and his rowboat whole. Cassian sat still, staring at the wave that would certainly force him under. There was a brief intermission of calm before Cassian and his boat were dragged under. A moment where the water pulled into itself, and everything was still. A moment where he watched his inevitable doom inching toward him. But before long, his moment of peace ended, and he and his boat were swallowed by the sea. He fought against the thrashing water for as long as he could, but he was too weak. As he felt himself losing consciousness, he stared up at the angry, gray clouds that hung above the ocean. A tiny pinprick of light pushed through the clouds, as if a divine entity was observing his demise. He stared at it for a moment before another wave came and knocked him deep into the water. Cassian’s limbs filled with lead as he sank deeper and deeper. His fear had dissipated,
marginal. 48 Volume 8 – 2023 the only thing he could feel was a strange comfort, like he’d been wrapped in a warm blanket. His thoughts were consumed by darkness. His body was limp as he sunk, his eyes closing as the darkness sealed him in. *** Cassian woke up, confused and disoriented. When he opened his eyes, he was in near complete darkness. He grazed his hands across the cold, rough surface he’d been laid upon, searching fruitlessly for anything he could use to make sense of his situation. He reached into the pocket of his damp coat and pulled out a pack of waterproof matches, then lit one. The warm light illuminated his surroundings, if only slightly. Somehow, he’d washed up inside a cave that was partially flooded, and he was in some kind of air pocket. Filling the cave were a myriad of knick-knacks and garbage, including an old, rusted lantern. He picked it up and lit it. Cassian held the deteriorated lantern in his hand, his thoughts racing, when he saw something peering at him from the water. A pair of deep violet eyes stared at him, just above the surface of the water. The eyes were surrounded by eyelashes that looked almost rubbery, water clinging to them in drops. Cassian gasped at the sight, and backed away from the creature, trying to comprehend what was before him. He stumbled back, blinking. Had he really seen what he’d thought he’d seen? The siren began speaking as she slowly approached. “Are you a hunter?” She whispered. Her voice was low and melodic, almost seeming to harmonize with itself. “I… uhm… No… I… What is going on…?” Cassian stuttered, blinking, trying to wake himself up from the dream he wasn’t in. The woman swam towards him, rhythmically, slowly. She rested her hands on the edge where the cold stone met the water. She pushed herself up from the small pool, revealing her upper body, which seemed to shine in strange places, as if she were covered in scales. “Hunter,” she hummed. “Are you here to kill us?” “...N-no! I’m not trying to hunt anyone!” Cassian looked at her, confused and terrified. “Then… what is this instrument…?” The woman lifted something made of shining metal from the water. A gun. His gun.
marginal. Volume 8 – 2023 49 “That… that’s a gun. But you don’t understand. I wasn’t hunting. Where am I?” He looked around frantically, as if trying to justify his situation with logic that was not there. “You’re in my cave,” the woman said with a smile. “I took you from the bottom of the ocean and brought you here. You are welcome.” “Uh… uh… Thank… you…?” The man said, staring back at the girl, who held the gun with two webbed fingers in front of her face. “What… what are you…?” “Hmm…” the woman chirped. “Haven’t you heard tales of the sirens of the coast?” She flicked up a long, shimmering tail. Cassian couldn’t believe his eyes. “Y-you’re a Siren…? Sirens are… real…?” “Ah. I forget how… oblivious you tailless people are. Here… may I see your hand...?” “Uh… uhm... Sure…?” He gives her his hand, wrinkled from its time in the water. “Hmm… I see. Your hand… It’s so rough. No webbing at all.” The siren’s hand was smooth and slippery, but radiated a warmth that Cassian hadn’t expected. “Yeah… Uhm… Humans don’t really… have webbing...” “Curious.” “Uhm… where… where am I…?” “My cave, silly. You’re my newest treasure.” Cassian stares at the siren, whose eyes were filled with a perverse delight at the thought of keeping him captive. Cassian stared into the empty eye sockets of the disintegrating skeletons that had shared his fate. His lungs grew tight, and each gasping breath he took did little to relieve him of his suffocation. Tears formed in his eyes as his hands trembled. The siren noticed his anguish and swam toward him with a thin smile. “Human,” she whispered. “You are safe. But I just want to know what you were doing in my ocean with a firearm. Did you truly mean no harm? Or are you lying to me?” “...I wasn’t hunting. I swear.” “...Then why bring a gun?” Cassian paused, staring at the creature in front of him. The siren seemed so innocent, her violet eyes wide and guileless. It felt like a sin to take that from her.
marginal. 50 Volume 8 – 2023 “...Sometimes… Sometimes humans hunt other creatures. Sometimes they hunt other humans. And sometimes... Sometimes they’re hunting themselves.” Cassian stared at the ground, his fingers tracing the cool damp stone of the cave. The siren paused, considering his words. “Why hunt yourself? What does that bring you?” “...Being a human can be hard. Sometimes life can feel like a constant spiral, and the only way to end it is to end yourself.” The two creatures shared a moment of silence as the siren’s hand glazed the surface of the water. She considered his words, digesting them like an unpleasant meal. “I do not mean to be rude, but I find that silly…” She paused. “Say, human, have you ever been caught in a whirlpool?” “...What? Oh, uhm, no.” “They are terrible things, truly. You have to paddle against the violent waves, pulling you down constantly. You run out of energy. It feels like it may be easier to simply let yourself be pulled down. Drown in an unforgiving sea. Even sirens need oxygen, you know.” She pauses. “But that is not how to act in a whirlpool.” “...How, then?” “...Firstly, you float. You stare up at the sky. You think, really think about the best way out. Then, you yell. No, you scream. Scream for help. Even if you think no one will hear. Even if you don’t trust anyone enough to save you. You scream and scream and you don’t stop until you’re out of the whirlpool. You have to keep floating. You can’t thrash around and wear yourself down. You have to float, and you have to scream.” The siren stares at him. Cassian is silent, unsure what to say, unsure how to move. He slowly nods, their eyes meeting. “Human,” the siren continues, “Do you want to return to land?” Cassian sat quietly for a moment. “Yes. I think I do.”