Writing Catalog

Munachimso Agwa

Grade: 11

Hathaway Brown School

Instructor: Scott Parsons

Sleepover on the Sidewalk / Midsummer Nightmare


Sleepover on the Sidewalk / Midsummer Nightmare


and so we drank apple juice from wine glasses that night,
clothed in satin nightgowns and anarchy,
singing the same 2 songs over and over again until dawn.
close your eyes and tell me what you see;
honeyed moonlight against olive oil skin, eyes of marble,
lips of glass, fingers of gold, a head with no body, a nobody.
ripped chiffon hanging from cracked lips,
and a dying neon sign that read welcome to wonderland.
we're lost in the landscape, grasping at cigarette-scented shadows,
praying that dawn would and wouldn't arrive all at once.
feed me to the hydrangeas if i don't see the morning:
a forbidden wish that remains unfulfilled. this is rebellion,
we thought. trapped in the static of a polaroid's graying ink.
we are rebellion, we thought.


the sky rains honey some nights, and rubber bullets on the others.
dandelions kiss the wet, tooth-chipped pavement;
it has just rained and the earth is learning to breathe again.
and i wonder: where does the water go in a flooded house?
does it break through its pipes, and run from the house,
like blood runs from a broken body?
or does it collect in the mattresses, pillows, cushions, and carpets,
suctioning them to a softening chestnut floor?
a floor. a foundation. once firm,
now pulpy like the flesh within a browned pear.
but everyone knows where fire goes in a burning house.
it clings to the floors and walls: a strange ivy that crawls over luminous timber.
fire, selfish like fire, consumes all in its path.
relentless like fire, consume all in your path.