Jenna Delmar, 12 grade

Kingsway Regional High School


Summer sun sits in the window sills,

chases the floors and the flower pots,

lifts the delphiniums and hydrangeas.


Do you watch the summer sprout

through the glass pane?


I hope everyone, one day, has

a greenhouse with an open

roof so that the rain can soak

the soil of those orange geraniums,

allowing them to germinate,


a greenhouse with a door cracked open,

permitting the bees to come and go,

spreading pollen as the sweet scent

of gardenias and lavender

drifts through the backyard –


With clear glass, one can see

thriving, magnificent nature

or needy little plants

that may just need some help

in order to flourish…


transparency –

isn’t that something?



Leah Lentz, 12th Grade

Shawnee High School


handing down

i prepare my blessings in

advance, i tuck twenty dollars in my mother’s

coat pocket, knowing that when i pull it out

come sunday, i’ll have forgotten i ever left it,

and feel a small glimmer in my soul, something in

my heart that still twinkles, like glitter

stuck in the cracks of oak floors,

long desecrated by avocado oil and egg whites.


when my father finally gets to remodel the kitchen,

he will find the casualties of childhood crafts and remember

how he hated the stuff. and in the same breath,

he’ll remember how we loved it,

how we swore to clean it up, but never could’ve finished the sisyphistic job!

once his children have emptied the nest,

he’ll uncover love persevering in funny ways,

artifacts middle hidden under hardwood,

shimmering hexagons hanging on through static.


look! look! it’s 10:18; in atlantic city,

a plane is touching down; in woodlynne,

the children are at school, streets are quiet; in my hometown,

a man is looking at the digital clock on the oven,

his daughter at the analog on the white walls,

they’re waiting to run off somewhere,

they’re itching for something to do with their hands,

they’re thinking the same thing,

“it’s 10:18, it’s your birthday, something is slated to begin.”



Maggie Cody, 12th Grade

Haddonfield Memorial High School


When I Am Underwater

Throwing my heat-exhausted body into the water, I float under the heavy element. I am underwater, feeling all the orbs of air tickle my face as they rush from my nose and swim to the surface. I don’t paddle. I don’t even move. I am underwater and the deafening silence makes me feel calm. I open my eyes and watch the sun’s rays dive through the slick surface. The beams dance in the deep end. My eyes feel so dry though they are devoured by the wetness. I am underwater yet the distinguishable music of the seventies is clearer as I push all 70 pounds off the bottom of the crater. I cringe the moment I leap off the ground. My wrinkled toes rip, opening a warm pinkness that stings like my eyes. I don’t care though. I can finally breathe. I open my eyes and gasp for air as I never had before. Now, not where I cherished, I move my toes in my shoes to make sure I forget that everlasting feeling. To dismiss the only part I ever hated about being underwater. I know all the words to the music now. “Come and get your love” peels off my lips. I remember when I am underwater. But I yearn for the moments, I come from the bottom, gasping for air at the top, opening my sore eyes, and being able to look at each and every one of them sitting at the white table set with the glass top and floral cushions strapped to the matching chairs. When I am now underwater I don’t want to take the first breath. Light, delicious air seconds from me, yet not all the people I love, will be waiting for me.




Anna Sisco, 10th Grade

Kingsway Regional High School


Juniper Lane

I came from the end of Juniper where we sold lemonade,

The corner of the pavement filled with pastel sidewalk chalk.

I’m from elating deep-end jumps and adventures in trees,

Unknown broken bones and late night heart-to-hearts.


I’m from smoked kielbasa, the sweetest babka, singing “Sto Lat” every year,

The taste of buttercream icing and blessed baskets in a realm of motley glass.

Sunday gravy, violations, “Hail Mary” in the candle-lit dining room,

Wishes on oplatek, strawberries on pound cake, and sweet pea perfume.


I’m from serendipity (happenings, achievements, heartbreaks),

Shiny dimes from the blue above, a person I’ll one day get to meet.

I’m from the very back pew, Sunday school, Nickelodeon at night.

A reckless love that lives inside, however unbelievable I think it to be.


I’m from a chaotic type of calmness, distraction in moderation,

Losing my voice at every meet, forever stained with the scent of chlorine.

I’m from saying grace, “Glory Be,” and “God be with you.”

I’m from that corner house on Juniper, the one where we sold lemonade.



Keelyn Shim, 12th Grade

Haddonfield Memorial High School


I Notice

I notice when you wander the kitchen

Circling the mess of papers

While I try to solve limits

Cursing the limits of my own ability

You scour behind toasters and TVs for things to clean

Just so I do not have to venture the late-night alone

With my calculator as my only companion


I notice your careful eye

Spinning an apple in your hand

Placing it delicately in my lunch bag

Holding it like a bubble you fear will soon pop

Protecting this small sanctuary of sweetness

So you can ensure that every day there will be something beautiful in my life


I notice the small hum of your voice

Your mind recognizing the songs you have heard over and over

Possibly hoping for a radio malfunction but never uttering your wish aloud

Giving me full control over every selection

Sondheim, Brown, Webber blaring through your speakers

Songs that do not float your boat

But you listen because for me they have been an entire ocean


I notice the nickname you have given me

You whisper “butterfly”

A soft greeting that mellows the harsh blare of my alarm

Wishing me a wonderful day

So that I emerge from my cocoon brighter than I started


I do not think you know the power you wield with your actions

But to me

You are the sun, shining a light on every day

You are the waves, washing away all that is wrong

You are a wall, protecting me from the wind

You have shown me endless amounts of care

When you believe that I do not notice you are there




Isabella Carle, 12th Grade

Kingsway Regional High School


Entitled Girl


Your future.

Lunch with Ashley! In the city!

New shoes. Yellow summer dress.

Climb up. Out of the subway station.

Bleak stairway. Dirty. Grime. Avoid slipping in whatever that is.

Up and out. Into the sun.

Walking with purpose.

To my pal and one great chicken Caesar wrap.

Unstoppable. Must get there. Running late. Dumb train.

Restaurant. Other side of the park.

Sunny. Warm. The dress looks great. I sure can pick ‘em.

Snarled traffic on Locust Street.

Not my concern.

I’m on foot.

Truck blocking traffic. Hazards blinking madly.

I can almost see the restaurant off in the distance. I can almost taste that wrap!


Get to her.

Approaching two interferences. One man. One woman.


Early thirties. Jeans. Work boots. Delivery man? Yes. Logo says so. It’s his truck.


Diminutive. Spry. Silver hair. Great cut! Animated. Helpful expressions.

Man pointing.

Double doors to building. One open. One shut.

Tarped delivery four feet wide at three-foot opening.

Not looking good.

Woman concerned.

The square tarped object is on the wrong side of the opening.

And it is not getting through.

Blocked drivers not honking?


Drivers understand. The delivery man is troubled.

Woman says, “It won’t open.”

Man says, “No, I’m going for the building’s manager!”

I’m thinking, “I’m late for lunch.”

I stop. Woman looks at me. She smiles.