Poetry – 1st Place
by Olivia Cole
the summer the chickens drowned
you called me across the withered yard
to pray, you said; to worship
and confess. but i had seen
your starved fingers, the way
your knees were so quick to bend.
the butterflies would not land
near you, the little blonde girl told me.
and i did not forget: amber wings breaking
the sun and the shadows sharp
triangles on your lips.
they would not land and i
could not cross because of it.
Poetry – 2nd Place
by Rebecca R. Block
We’re living our never have the time lives
dreaming Europe, ancient
city streets and aqueducts built
I’ve been there once, spent a week
riding buses with my father; past fields
of cork trees half stripped smooth
the remaining bark looking fat, foreign
against the new skin;
past fields of lavender that lasted so long
I forgot the color green.
You’ve been there twice, with your girlfriend.
You didn’t sit on tour buses listening to your father
snoring for hours. You saw
England, Belgium, Germany, France
but never Portugal.
I’m dreaming of bringing you there
re-coloring your thoughts with cork trees
and lavender fields
so that every time someone opens wine
or wears purple
you see me.
Poetry – 3rd Place
by Caroline Ennis
the smell of blood is in the hall
the stairs curl upwards like a housecat’s tail
she sinks between the floorboards and gives in, a little
stacks of books are dusty manacles
they wind around her like hedge gardens,
crumbling pages yellowed and whispering.
he is well-versed and quotes as he works.
the smell of blood is in the house
spicy and crisp like autumn potpourri.
leaves chatter where windows are left open, while
more mound on the walk, waiting.
he took her shoes and wears them, sometimes.
in them, his footsteps are teeth on the softening wood floor,
soles stretching mouths in the dust.
her heels will break, eventually.