top of page

River in my Backyard

Updated: Nov 5, 2019

by Audrey Molnar '19

If my plunged

fist released the oval pebble

it would sink.

But it didn’t.

I still feel it in

my rounded palm.

Water spilled between

my fingers, my jeans soaked

with the tilt

of my wrist.

It could have found rest.

But it didn’t.

Beside the rusted

harmonica, the gold ring, plastic.

My hand a

pillow. The delta

a funnel for what my

palm couldn’t hold.

I still feel

it in my rounded palm

like melting ice.


Recent Posts

See All

with only the moon’s fleeting company

Lillian Wagner / 9 The carcass lies on the sidewalk. Eyes like olives that never grew, looking back at me through a tinted window. A tongue hanging out of its mouth. It will never taste again. Never a

second-grade social

Ashley He / 11 second-grade social it is peculiar, to be in your body, but not quite, existent, feeling thick finger pads picking away the undone, frayed edges of the old church dress my mom made me w

Under the Poplars

jane doe Falling to nothing Find there is something Under the Poplars She sleeps the days I lie awake Don’t touch the bread I don’t mean what I said My mouth burns Jaw shut My fingers bleed I curl the


Commenting has been turned off.
bottom of page