Ciara Carlyle (Brown University, Environmental Science 2022)

You consider this world in shapes:
figure eights carved into frozen ground,
triangles of legs on velvet throws,
strange geometries of my words that fall incomprehensible to you,
and so on.
[Round round eyes in a new Green that changed the rhythm I had grown
accustomed to.]
The problem, I must tell you, is the linear state in which you conceive our
relationship. A continuation into the infinite. Although a lovely sentiment at its
core, my inhibitions lie in the very definition of a line. From what I understand (and
I do not pretend to understand very much), a line is an endless stream of points,
never-meeting blips in the oblivion working simultaneously towards an
unattainable goal of everything. Is this what you want from me?
I do not know of a more favorable form into which we could fall. Circles are
too restrictive—squares too, well, square. Is an expansion into infinity or the
security of perimeters more preferable in our situation?
Please advise, when convenient.


take all that’s left of me.
Strip me of all clothes and artifice
and tell me who I really am.
Consider this a final kindness,
robbing me of all presumptions of the character of my soul.
I will not run.
I will be your strange experiment in what happens when there is truly nothing left.


I write everything in Orange ink and
Its blazing silhouette
Sticks to the inside of my eyelids
Like lunchtime suns
When I told you I often feel like I’m drowning in Yellow
You did not understand
I said I don’t know how to swim
You said show me
Most days I think I’m a shade of Eggshell
Which I guess isn’t the worst color

But if you could choose to be to be any color in the world
Who the hell would choose Eggshell?
Did I ever tell you about
The three years my mother dressed entirely
In White and Blue
And my dad thought she was going crazy
But I saw the way she looked at the ocean on the drive to school
And she told me she often thought about just walking in
Like that woman in The Awakening
And that really scared me
But I just said “oh.”
I am jealous of Gemma
Because she has a White Duvet
And I could never have a White Duvet because
I would get stains on it
My duvet has a lot of ink stains
Which I just discovered last week
when I put it in the wash
I’d like to take better care of my things.
Some days the world is just made of too many colors
And they mix and form new shades and
The thought of all that seeing just makes me want to cry
And I feel nauseated
And you are Too Green
You Are Too Green
And I ask you to stay away from me.

  1. Call for Submissions
  2. 3.29.20 Irina V. Wang
  3. Let Yourself Be Lifted Jackie Scott
  4. Art Is Everything Jen Liese
  5. Two Poems Ella Rosenblatt
  6. Living Room Dance Party Ariel Wills
  7. On Walking When Walking Is Advised Against Keavy Handley-Byrne
  8. Untitled Cita Devlin
  9. Ads in Corona Hannah Oatman
  10. COVID-19 and Communitas Elaine Lopez
  11. A Time for Pie Elizabeth Burmann
  12. How to Stay Motivated When You’re Stuck at Home Clarisse Angkasa
  13. Coerced Harmony (A Tour) Hammad Abid
  14. Zooming In and Out Tongji Philip Qian
  15. [Form] Ciara Carlyle
  16. Hi.txt Dan Luo
  17. A poem about boredom, a composite Maixx Culver-Hagins
  18. Eyewitness News Tristram Lansdowne
  19. Distance Maps Marcus Peabody
  20. Therapeutic Suggestion Maria Aliberti Lubertazzi
  21. Keep Your Heart Six Feet Away From Mine (and other moments) Arielle Eisen
  22. Twenty Instructions for COVID-19 Charlott Isobel Dazan
  23. Cuerno 1 y 2 Yan Diego Estrella Wilson
  24. A Monolith of Grief Regarding the Absence of Touches, or Letter to a Future Lover García Sinclair
  25. Coronavirus by the Thousands Drew Dodge
  26. Two Poems Kathryn Li
  27. Beds Are Burning Aleks Dawson
  28. Still Lifes Yidan Wang
  29. Fragments of Seva Jagdeep Raina
  30. Packing Up and Staying Woojin Kim
  31. Chronic Pain and Fermentation Ralph Davis
  32. Quarantine Letters Hannah Moore
  33. Sounds of Silence: An Isolation Soundscape Dara Benno
  34. 14 Day Detox for Designers Erica Silver

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