Our second piece of the term is a creative spotlight on Jennifer Chan (’19). She wrote the following poem for the class Introduction to Creative Writing and is considering majoring in English on top of her current major in Psychology. Thank you for sharing your work with us, Jennifer!
Succulent Care Manual
Feed me raw sunlight
and spatter a few droplets
over my aching leaves.
If you remember,
please wash away time’s film
with a sprinkle of tap water
or a brush of your fingertips.
Dress up your windowsill with
terra cotta pots and cactus colonies.
Pretend you are a better caretaker
than blistering winds and sand dunes
even when you forget to water me,
even when dust stains my leaves
the color of tombstones.
Banish me to a corner of your mind
then wonder why no one knows
succulents look like birds of paradise
when they bloom.
fly by night
from above you can see
the city’s ribcage grids—
they house electric ghosts
of street lamp embers
that fight darkness
by burning themselves up
from the insides,
lighting up the streets
and blacking out the stars
sidewalks blaze into highways
flooded red and white
with luminous stripes
of road rage
and tired people wishing
they were somewhere else
because taillights
are more beautiful
from above than behind;
because alone at midnight
you can’t help but wonder
why everything bright
orders you to
stop.
but it’s breathtaking
when you’re looking down;
the way our electric fingerprint
spatters the night
like a firework too radiant to fade,
a million white gold pinpricks
that might each be
a wife waiting by her bedroom window,
a child reading fireside fairy tales,
a businessman staring at the smoky sky,
a girl-woman watching the city burn
so I let myself imagine
a person made of star fire
into every window pane
and onto every street corner
because it’s easier
to believe every soul glows
like candle flame
when I can’t see the fire,
just the light