February 2019



Highway Lullaby

By: Hunter Towne

 

Silence makes a sound
don’t you think?
Sometimes I can’t sleep
because the silence is so loud.

There is something about the nothing,
the absolute emptiness of a place
like walking through a forest on a snowy night.

Silence scares me.

I grew up in town
close to the highway
and the constant hum of tires on tar
has sung me to sleep the past 15 years.

Sometimes we go to a farm
in New Hampshire.
It’s beautiful
and I treasure my time there.
But I have a hard time sleeping.

It is just
so
so
so
quiet,
yet, so
so
so
loud.

Silence has a sound
don’t you think?

Hunter Towne is 15 years old; she lives in Freeport, Maine.



The Red and White Campbell's Beef Noodle Soup Can

By: Andrew Li

The red and white Campbell’s Beef Noodle Soup can,

created by heavy, hurting, hands, in a faded factory,

sits, idly.

 

It has the same mellow, metallic, touch as others of its kind.

It has the same lackluster label as others of its kind.

 

It has the

same

soggy

soup

as others of its kind.

 

The price, nineteen cents, is printed boldly on the lid,

and the can is shipped off to a shop in Manhattan,

where a man comes everyday to buy it.

The man, Andy is his name,

whips out two dimes, grabs the can,

and tells the storekeeper to keep the change.

 

He returns to his easel in his studio

and opens the can

and takes in the boring bland aroma of the soup

and he consumes it like his mouth is a black hole

devouring the universe of beef, noodles, and soggy soup.

 

Yet it doesn’t deter him from buying another,

and another,

until twenty years have gone by.

 

Andrew Li, 18, Singapore