Untitled Poem

Stephen Bubenheim, 131 TESS

Wake up. Hard bed and bones creak.

Walk to the fridge; a dead lizard inside. 

How’d you manage that?

Sugary powdered not-coffee.

Ants in the water heater. Ants on my hand.


At school they smile-scream and climb on

wooden bulks barnacled with bolts and algae.

They curse, they laugh—kick and hug—

and when the day’s up, roll out.

Ten-year-olds driving death machines.


I think they’re learning, but it’s hard to tell;

like some blurry thing ambling on-wards 

because we tell it to.

Thrumming fan; still-hard bed.

Rippled shapes flash across the mosquito net.

This is Stephen’s first solo article, but get a glimpse into his character and writing where he is featured in Never Thought I’d Be Into ___ Until I Joined the Peace Corps.

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