Fall 2020


The Loom

Chasing Waves

Aidan Cooper '22


His feet bathe in the foam,

The sun calls his name.

He questions what’s beyond

And his legs now ask the same.


Three steps into the water,

A shiver down the spine.

My sea whispers to him

Come, child, please be mine.


Nine steps into the blue,

He can no longer stand.

But sick of this crowded beach

He leaves behind the sand.


Swimming now, so far away,

From the shore, a faded pink.

He continues, breathing heavily

Here he begins to sink.


A great tsunami strikes him,

Sending him beneath.

How he wishes for the faded sand

Of that crowded little beach.


Twisting, turning, almost gone,

The boy accepts the dark.

The benevolent waves claw him

My water’s cold and sharp.


Welcome to the sea, my son,

May you be at peace.

You shall be missed above, I know

But now you’re part of me.



Boy, 4, found dead after chasing waves.

Ella Xue '23

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Emily Tang '24


Laura Brawley '22


Red as passion

You perch on wooden shingles 

Inquisitively, you peer through my window 

As if you want to say hello 

As if you know me 


You dart from branch to branch 

A streak of red 

Like an artist’s stroke across a canvas 

Your song is bittersweet 

But you are light and free of burden 


The sky is boundless

Yet you return to my small corner of the world 

You watch me 

As if you know me 


As if I am familiar 

Maybe you want to tell me something 

But you can’t find the words 


Emily Khym '23


Stencils of royal blue 

Piercing through 

The ray of sun, 


A girl in a baby blue dress 

Pouring a cascade of water 

On her neighbor's cat, 


Strands of cerulean blue threads 

Intertwining intimately 

By the manipulation 

Of grey-clad workers. 


The peculiarities of life 

Swayed to the 

Incessant waves 

Of the cobalt blue ocean. 


Yet, he remained alone 

In his ochre yellow shadow, 

Refusing to give in 

To the melodious tunes 


Of a certain blue: 

His guilt, The truth.

How Do You Paint the Sky? 

Madison Oh '23


The sky can’t be just blue.


How do you color the morning?

How do you merge a powder blue, like a glob of minty toothpaste, with the blush of yawning cheeks as you awake, with the ashy purple of your sleepy, drooping eye bags?

How do you possibly impart the anticipation for a fresh stack of pancakes or the early symphony of birds in only one color?


How do you color the day?

How do you fuse the vibrant hue of cool blue gatorade gulped down at lunch, with the white of paper you scribble on with ink, with the golden school bus filled with rowdy students?

How do you attempt to capture the infinite laughs with friends or the hours spent reclined under the radiant sun in only one color?


How do you color the night?

How do you mix the plum purple of frostbitten lips with the bright blue of your scintillating phone screen with the black you are plunged into when the light switch flips?

How do you gather the comfort of a warm blanket and the itch of grass as you stargaze in only one color?


The sky can’t be just blue,

Not if you hope to paint—

The sun’s luminosity piercing our resting eyes like a natural alarm clock,

The sound of laughter floating up into the clouds above,

The endless sky tucked into the horizon, shutting its eyes until morning.


How can you paint the sky just blue?


Danielle Hong '22


Isabella Delach '24


The boy closes his eyes.

Conversation hums in the classroom.

His grip on the pencil tightens, and the noises fade away.

Maybe, he thinks, just maybe, when I open my eyes, it’ll be blue.

His eyes flutter open, and for a moment his heart jumps with hope. 

It’s still grey. 

Still bland. 

So boring it begins to make his eyes sore.

With a grumble, he releases his vise-like grip on the pencil.

Cooler than green, much darker. His friend had once said. Almost like purple, but without the red.

His father had described the same thing. 

So had everyone else he’d ever met.

Once you meet your soulmate, you’ll find out what it looks like.

They said, after giving up on telling him.

The boy rolls his eyes, evident disgust etched in his face.

I’ll never see blue.

“Class,” the teacher says, “there is a new transfer student here today.”

The girl at the front of the class smiles. 

Long brown hair.

Full eyelashes.

Rounded face.

But what strikes the boy most are her eyes.

They’re blue.


Stephanie Zhang '21


Erica Zhang '23


I have nothing left to say.

I look around me,


Everybody’s got something to say.

Maybe it’s because of the long silences,

Or because my personality is too bland,

But I can’t seem to open my mouth.


Sometimes I wish I was invisible,

But when I look down,

I realize that the only person that sees me is me.


I’m so busy surrounding myself with people,

That I forget.

For a moment,

I pretend that I belong.

That we’re best friends,

That the laughing would cover the hole,

That the noise would fill the silence.


But it’s okay.

The blues come here and there.

I’m just lonely.

love, hyacinthus

Jason Chen '24


we bantered ‘til the sky grew cerulean

your voice of lisps and giggles drew me in

with a handsome headache, i wished you the best of nights


the wind sang your name like a sweet paean

i breathed in the air and my lungs grew aegean

i climbed for hours but your pedestal stood at great heights


how are you blind to your royal demeanor?

enter the room and all eyes become keener

yet somehow you don’t feel the crown weighing on your head


you fervently spoil me with lapis and sapphire

but not even diamonds can hide your desire

to hold her in your gentle arms while i lie dead


sing me to sleep, but the lyrics aren’t for me

your navy voice bellows like a ship on the sea

my dreams and my nightmares feel so empty without you


and i just feel so, so, so, so blue.

and the world is just too loud for two.

i don’t want to wake up, apollo, if i can’t wake up next to you.

The Thing About Blueberries

Eva Evans '21


It turns out

That blueberries

Aren’t actually blue.

“Let me look it up,”

Isa says,

Setting her cup on the table

And reaching for her phone. 

Everyone laughs. 

The day has been… interesting.

A pandemic rages.

An election rushes in,

And yet,

Of all the world’s problems

Here we are

Arguing about fruit.

“I’m right! I’m right!”

She screams.

“The internet says so!

They’re actually purple.”

Here is where

I say

I think humanity is known

For thriving off of one proud element—


On my way to school

The Trump signs face off

Against posters for Biden,

And I tried to search the web

For LGBTQIA rights

The other day 

But found an article

About the definition

Of homophobia


Isa looks at me.

“What’s wrong?”

She asks.

“A lot,” I say.

A lot, is wrong.

But Isa doesn’t care

About that.

She presses her hand

Against the plexiglass

As if there is


Stronger than division

And whispers to me

With a twinkle in her eye,

“What’s right?”

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Janus Yuen '21

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Janus Yuen '21

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Helen Shen '23

Warning: The following piece contains sensitive themes related to domestic violence and abuse.


Black and Blue

Kassie Rivera '21 


My life was black and white before you.

Now it’s black and blue.

You painted your color everywhere,

while I fell for you.

Your mark is now all over my home,

everything black and blue.

Your mark is now all over my heart.

Oh, how it sings for you.


The black metal of your razor,

glinting on the sink,

reminds me of your blinding smile,

makes me forget how to think.


The blue lily you gave me last week

makes me blush like a child.

The way you said “I love you” then

made my heart go wild.


The black duffle you left on the floor

reminds me you take space without care. 

Your sky blue sweater that I wear to bed

makes our love feel rare.


Your initials tattooed on my finger,

in permanent black ink,

remind me I’m yours forever,

no matter what I might think.


The marks you left on my body,

still a deep ugly blue,

make me feel so stupid

every time I go back to you.


My life was black and white before you.

Now it’s black and blue.

You forced your color everywhere,

when you made me fall for you.

Your mark is now all over my heart,

broken and battered and bruised.

You say you’ll never do it again.

Of course, I believe you.

Meeting the Future’s Gaze

Charlie Griffin '23 


Dark basalt lines shores,

bitter blue tides rise and fall;

erosion takes all.


Them Blue Devils

Charlie Griffin '23


A vibration slips,

meeting bleats of the wistful;

the lone reed cries blue.

Blues (1).jpg

Julie Kang '23


Grace Thompson '22


Blue is the color of my bedroom walls.

Blue is the color of the sky outside my window.

Blue is the color of the sunlight reflecting off my carpet.


I used to like blue.


I wonder when that changed.

Maybe the first long summer I had to weather alone,

Maybe the first time I woke up at noon,

Maybe the first afternoon I spent in silence.


Who knows, who knows,

All I know is that to me, blue is the color of death.

Not death of the body.

Not that final death.


But death of the soul,

Death of the heart,

Death of life.


To me it’s become a color so relaxing,

So calming,

So peaceful,

That it suffocates me.


I drown in silence and blue.


But then, but then I look up at the sky.

I look up at the sky and I think of you

And you

And you.


And I remember why I liked blue.

Because blue is the color of the clouds above you and me,

Because blue is the color of the ocean we played in,

Because blue is the color I think of when you smile.


Because blue is the color of my love for all of you.


So blue is both my favorite color

And my least favorite,

Because on bad days it may drown me.

But on good days it can help me fly.

Jade Colored Glasses

Kirsten Lees '23


Surrounded by

Sweat, laughter, people

A girl sits among the crowd

Her smile stretched ear to ear

Words flow between her lips


And a surplus of serotonin surges through her


But her own brain is booby-trapped

To snuff out the sparkle in her eyes


A predator floats in,

Invisible, seemingly invincible

Slowly suspended, salivating above its prey

Ready to feed in this never ending hunt


She doesn’t see it coming

Never does

But it seeps through the pores of her

Dimpled, dry skin

Consuming, corrupting, possessing her

Once again


She can feel it, reminded of its grasp

Her ears set aflame

Like black asphalt in the summer

She pries at the brittle

Skin framing her fingernails

The once willful words now

Clinging to the back of her throat


She wants to scream

Drain her lungs of air

Yet that smile

Remains firm

Cemented in place

Staring at the world

With jade colored glasses

Cloaked in a veil of melancholy madness

Trapped in a room

Filled with her thoughts

Locked from the outside in