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A Second Home
By Arielle LiMy most vivid recollections of China are filled with fond memories and blissful experiences. The smell of smoke and frying foods wafts through the air, and at night the streets are a disorienting mess of flashing billboards and street lights.
Paradise Drive
By Kayla BrethauerTurquoise vinyl siding
a green darker than any Carolina marsh.
Twenty steps up to the front door.
Fifteen more to the bedrooms.
Will the luggage make it to its destination?
The Allure of Home
By Nitya DaveSalty wind pushes at the falling tide.
Blue serenity veils the town as a
melancholy buzz flows through the idle docks.
A boat pushes through the harbor:
It drifts along,
lazily down.
Growing Old
By Anne GoebelBorn into the place I despise.
Growing in the green,
not seeing what could be.
Suffocating siblings,
pets galore,
always wanting more.
Colorado was my safe place,
one mountain to the next.
Silverfish
By Kayla DoubravaI’ve never understood why people are so disgusted
by silverfish.
I like the little guys.
They way they scurry around from place to place,
they’ve always got somewhere to be,
perhaps because they don’t like where they are.
Sometimes I Cry
By JDC ResidentSometimes when I sit in my room I think of home
I think of all the things I miss and how I’m alone
In all the loneliness I get consumed in sadness and fear
Then I feel the pain as I shed a tear
Sometimes when I’m in my room and I’m entrapped in silence
what is a home...
By Connor MittsIs it the one place you can go?
the one place you can trust
those who are there
no matter where you are
or where you are going?
Is a home where you are always found
and lost to lose yourself in old memories?
To Build a Home
By Amani RaheelMy ma says
She pushed my stroller
around the bumpy streets of
Queens, Jamaica, Long Island,
even Manhattan,
Through rain and snow, all
alone.
Finding no help from the
passengers, all ignoring her
silent plea
Endless Calm
By Claire BurrowWinter seems like an endless calm.
When the cold surrounds us,
and the darkness makes the streets disappear,
the world’s turning seems to slow down.
You can see footprints start and footprints
stop,
leading somewhere,
going nowhere.
Never Been
By Raneem IssawiAlthough I have never been,
I can smell the condensed aroma
of fresh bread in the bakery,
occupying its place in the noses of bypassers.
Although I have never been,
I can distinguish between the flavor
of black and green olives,
A Different Room
By Arron WeberMoving boxes carefully across the street,
Looking both ways
before pushing a small cart of toys across the street.
Today we were moving,
But it was not a long drive to our new house,
It was a simple walk across the street.
Warm Enclosures
By Ashley McLaughlinI hastily picked my feet up out of the snow to uncover a pair of warm brown boots that had been hidden under layers of white fluff just moments ago. The cold wind pierces my bare cheeks as I charge forward, breathing heavily to reveal a cloud of warm carbon dioxide.
Pictures
By Carly HassenstabPolice tape lines the yard
I walk past
Baby blue house in cookie-cutter neighborhood
I look down and it says welcome
I quickly step in and close the door
so the camera flashes don’t glimpse inside
Kansas City
By Taj’Zhere DillardThis here is real.
There are no stories
about happy homes and whole hearts
where we come from.
No fancy cars.
We got no big houses but big dreams.
This is crack fiends at midnight,
babies crying, sleeping on wooden floors.
Where You've Been
By AnonymousWhat do you do when the place you call home
Is one that you no longer recognize; when you
Forget that place is no mere function of space,
But also a function of time; and the
Crystalline memories you can still see,
Falling Asleep to the Brown Line L
By Catherine StrayhallChicago, my beauty;
Chicago, my heart.
Chicago, the deep breath of
Every morning I start.
Chicago, my summer;
Chicago, my light.
Chicago, the way her buildings
Shine in the night.
childhood home
By Emily Martinshe is four years old
toddling around
on wooden floors
like a spinning top,
too short to reach the cabinets or
see above the sink,
clambering atop
countertops
to reach her
pink plastic glasses
Where I’m From
By Ahna ChangI am from the nail polish in my room,
From holographic glitter and high heels.
I am from the toys on the ground
(rainbow, soft, Sasha never picks them up.)
I am from cacti pricking my fingers,
From shopping and thanksgiving,