This Is What It Is by Safia Chilakapati The truth of the matter is this: You are my sister by blood – but most importantly to you, by law. If legal chains did not bind you to me, you’d be gone faster than daddy’s first car, the Infinity, the one you were supposed to…
Mothers, not Fathers Jordan Muscal Every morning we leave the children and the husband. We know we must return. We know it is fathers, not mothers, who are allowed to run away. So we wake at 3:30, long before the beach grows crowded, polluted, with tourists and toddlers. We slip into the bathing…
Red Plastic Moving Day by Luka Neal A small, crumpled up face frowned back at me as my mother carried me to the courtyard in front of our house, the same one I live in today. My first memory of my sister, tugging at my father’s pants while glaring me down with unsure brown…
The British Museum by Eva Rami It’s dark in the British Museum. The halls are empty, and I take advantage of the late night desertion. My footsteps echo As I weave through the labyrinths of rooms and corridors, Until I stop in front of a glass mantle, atop which sits A jewel. It’s red…
Stop Right There by Elliot Stravato Elliot Stravato is a senior visual artist at HSPVA. His work explores themes of perspective and perception, usually in the context of passage and identity. plans to go to Brown University in the fall.