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2025 Fall Contest Winner: Hug It Tight
Bella Burnett '28 I asked you, when will I know? When will I be “that” person? When will I be the one with those brilliant ideas, The kind that rush out of people so strongly and quickly, But yet are still so detailed, and meticulously perfected in a blink of my eye. My eye that struggles to see, but still wants to try, I put on my glasses but yet I still find myself asking, When will I be proud? Time blows away, The wind carries what could have been, It’s off somewhere with
Oct 10, 20251 min read
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Probably Wrong Recipe
Nicholas Lieu '28 I probably made it wrong. Probably spent too much time away from it and too little time kneading it. I let soft dough stand out by itself, So I probably shouldn’t be shocked that it fell. I thought of you. How you stiffened dough with rough smacks of flour. How day after day, you pressed and hammered. until it could stand alone. I probably could do that; I remember your recipe’s etching. Then again, it probably hurt a little. Standing on raw legs, shap
Pennies Going Gone
Gabe Gass '28 A couple pennies discarded out of a man’s back pocket, onto the grieving concrete floor, some just recently manufactured and thrown out, while others go down molded and old. Some lives thrown away, away for good. Gone, looking away for a second, just to turn back and see none at all. Now in my very own hands, sits this worthless piece of currency, one which feels so heavy. Heavy as the countless wasted opportunities thrown out the door when no one cared to
Why Are We Different
Jennifer Fox '26 If I’m fast down the court, when I beat you to the hoop You tell me I’m fast for a girl. Why does the last part need to be said Why do I have to be fast for a girl Why can’t I just be fast, faster than you? Because I’m not a man, I’m supposed to always come behind? Because you’re bigger, stronger, tougher I’m not supposed to win? Am I supposed to stand aside and let you walk all over everything I’ve worked for Take away opportunities for me to shine under t
To the White Woman Who Left a Voicemail on New Year’s Day
Lauren Kim '27 The white woman left a voicemail, January 1st, 2022, after work, and I walked to my car in the January cold, my heels clicking on black ice, my breath hanging in the air like evidence, my mother at home making tteokguk for New Year’s, the kitchen warm and steaming with broth, and I pressed play in my car: Keep your Korean to yourself, I saved it, her voice cracks through the speaker. Then I think about the halmonis selling greens they hiked to pick, perilla le
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