Wednesday, May 31, 2023 Transmissions: Issue 2

At the Writing Center, we have the honor to be privy to the work of the next generation of artists and thinkers. Every month, JBWC Youth Ambassadors will be selecting three creations by writers involved with the Writing Center. Enjoy!

SWALLOWED FRAGMENTS
Jonah

after Lillian Yvonne-Bertram

[In the Water]

There is no way

[In the Phytoplankton]

There is no way to discuss this without first addressing rot, he said, and behind him the cars wailed like dogs, the street lights retched their glare onto the pavement, and history, drunk and hurting as it was, bargained with death, pathetic.

[In the Shrimp]

Our hearts fist & unfist, tedious work…The year thrashed to the surface again, ribs splayed & gasping, and we did it over, wore the grooves a little deeper…Her old stab-spots started to glow like fireflies during the pummeling…The wavelengths curdle…A boy at the piano saying what is the tonality of the human body…Raucous tangle of stars, our bloodlines subsiding into mud…Every lane, if followed far enough, ducks into the gnashing absurd.

[In the Trout]

There is no way to discuss this without first addressing rot, he said, and that summer the trout were splitting open, rocked apart by the pitch and yaw of their blood, their bodies like fading bruises on the banks…Months-long fermata, the mealworms shifting in the seams of the house, blind and soft and breaking into darkling beetles…History a pale echo of want rocking itself to sleep…Us singing our malady, rattling our swords, our hands, our mouths the deftest instruments of violence…The gnashing absurd…There is nothing more worthwhile than learning the mind of God, but one day we must settle into our lack.

[In the Human]

I remember the silo falling in on itself, a boy at the piano saying what is the tonality of the human body, the mealworms sighing away their skin…There is no way to discuss this without first addressing rot…Months-long fermata, our held breath crumbling, our lungs yielding to the slow rupture of new foliage…There is nothing more worthwhile than learning the mind of God, but our lack, our lack, our lack…Our hearts fist & unfist, tedious work…Her old stab-spots glowed like fireflies during the pummeling…The wavelengths know when one is not their own…Every lane, if followed far enough, ducks into the gnashing absurd…We’ll be singing our malady, rattling our swords, our hands, our mouths the deftest instruments of violence.

This poem is meant to illustrate the process of biomagnification in a simplified ocean food web. Each fragment of poetry symbolizes a piece of pollution (chemicals, microplastics, etc) that, when consumed by one organism, is introduced to the food chain and increases in quantity as it advances up the trophic levels, reaching its highest concentration in the human. Jonah shared the poem for feedback during JBWC Open Hours!

MARIPOSA, MARIPOSA
Nautica

She has been criticized so much by her.
So much anger and responsibility burdened on her
back.

She’s so upset. What is she to do?
Mariposa, Mariposa, such a fool.

The cuts and scars she’s created always had
poured into her cup, but never close to the brim.

Hugging her knees, she looks outside the
window of the manor. Mariposa, Mariposa, what
are you going to do?

Her hand extends outward to the lush
world in front of her.
She’s so close, and then a second hand.

Then her head.

Then her legs.

Until she reaches the flowers below.
She opens her eyes. Sore, but happy, she
limps to independence and freedom.

But then a witness watches. A bluer hue
of beauty, and a darker shade of envy.
She sees her disappearing into the distance,
and freezes for her happiness.

Mariposa, Mariposa, you’ve left her behind, but
she’s happy for you.

“Rosita, Rosita, look at how much you’ve
Bloomed.”

“Mariposa, Mariposa,” her sister says, “I will
miss you.”

This poem was written during Open Hours inspired by the following prompt by Youth Ambassador, Haya: What song lyric do you think represents you or someone in your life? Or an event in your life? Use that as the first line of a piece of writing.

I SAID I LOVED YOU
Echo

I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I JUST WANTED TO BE SAFE
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED YOU TO CARE
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED YOU TO BE THERE
BUT INSTEAD YOU JUST DROVE ME INSANE

WHAT IS SOMETHING THAT U MISS?
HOW WILL YOU GET IT BACK?

WHAT DOES YOUR IDEAL WORLD LOOK LIKE? SOUND LIKE?
GUIDE US WITH YOUR SENSES.

WHAT IS ANOTHER STORY YOU WANT TO SHARE WITH THE WORLD?

Inspired by June Jordan’s poem “INTIFADA INCANTATION: POEM 38 FOR B.B.L.” which we read during Ashia Ajani’s workshop This is My Voice: Artivism in a Changing World.