September Poetry Compilation
The Sunstroke Monthly Poetry Compilation is a collection of poetry submitted by Sunstroke readers and staff members. Take a seat, light a candle, grab a cup of tea, and dive into the intricate words of our community.
Submit to future compilations at hello@sunstrokemagazine.com!
Photograph by Jailli (Charlotte Rainville)
Missing April Showers in Quarantine Hours by Alicianna Roman
I feel like time has stopped and somehow the air in the streets we use to run free in has stopped moving too. I think I’ve spent all day in my head, thinking of ways to relive the days it felt good to be alive, to feel like me again.
I wish I didn’t look past the small things like the way people would smile, how the rain would messed up my hair, or how I would shiver when the cold air hit me as I left a room.
I miss the feeling of being surrounded by so many people my thoughts don’t feel like my own, like somehow the person right next to my shoulder could some how hear what I’m thinking.
I miss those nights when we didn’t care. When we felt like youth was going to be forever, when we felt it was never going to fade away.
I miss the way those songs made us feel on the way home, how the lyrics didn’t make sense to our parents but to us they explained exactly what we were feeling.
I miss the way our smiles looked in the sunlight and how in the moonlight our laughs filled the air and made us feel euphoric.
Now all I can do is think so much about all those days, when we never kept track of all the hours running past us.
Toulouse, France by Maryam Mushtaq
The sun breathed heavy on my skin,
and I was finally able to sigh in relief.
I was sweating slightly underneath my tan shirt,
buttoned halfway up my chest.
My cheeks tinted pink from the heat and My eyes glistened,
squinting from the beams.
I looked across the bench to where she was Cradling a book,
shielding her eyes with her Hand as she skimmed the pages.
I gazed past her at our reflection in the glass door.
We blended as one,
and in that moment I knew my soul had dropped an anchor here.
The neighbors’ conversation seemed like a Vacant song,
and I looked back to see what They sang about,
but their language was as Foreign to me as the birds in the trees.
Still my soul rested here.
When we went inside,
my skin grew bumps From the change in temperature.
I glanced out the window to find my soul
Still basking underneath the sunlight,
Where it now lays for eternity.
Peace Juice by Ellis
Your fingertips stretch out towards the low hanging peach.
Your stomach, now hollow from surviving off daydreams
or delusions
ribs pierce through translucent skin,
now dotted with brown bruises
as if you, yourself, had fallen from the branch.
You cling to memories that will have to sustain you for now.
Those yellow days where sweat
provided adhesion for hair and clothes and
bodies to bond together
empty spaces now filled.
You yearn to reach
Satiety again.
To watch as sweet peach juice dribbles down
soft, freckled arms
to feed you is to give all of me
the leaves whistle with wind and the branch droops lower
soft skin meets soft skin
and I am pulled down once more
Sobriety by Katherine Olsen
It takes being drunk to trust the boy
and sit next to him without a thought.
The whole group is spooning
on the newly dubbed “casting couch”
and the name doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should.
It takes being sober to realize
that he only touched your hand and that
he didn’t even graze you once
because he Could Have wandered
along the path of my spine,
my cheek,
my ass,
and it’s only when I’m sober I think
about the confident boys who knew what I wanted
so I decided to like the spontaneous strokes.
It takes being sober to decide I like not having to decide.
No Sense of Belonging by Riley Storms
do you ever get that feeling
that time has just
stood still for a moment
that you were so
lost
in your thoughts
or actions
it felt like nothing even
happened.
because when i had you
time stood still
and the world stopped
and belonged to us
now i can’t even say i belong to you
Security Cameras by Abby Cornelia
The elevator buttons are like hollow
moons and I feel dirty. Elongated,
my reflection in the shimmering doors
looks at me, a sad self-portrait,
as if she’s asking, “how did you get here?“
You and I kissed in front of the security
cameras and wondering if anyone is watching.
I wonder if there is anything you haven’t told me yet,
waiting for whiskey breath to tell me instead.
The doors slide open and you walk out first,
that hole in your back-pack gaping.
Where all the love laters you’ve written me
must have fallen out.
Apple Tree by Caitlin Pilisuk
Save for a yellow dog turned giddy in a bath of immaculate sun
I am alone in the yard where two Adirondacks sit and face each other
Painted grain hot to the touch
A lithe body slackens and sinks between rigid grooves
The boughs of the apple trees dilute light from my lissome skin
Their fruit is reddest in my palm And bluer against a quilt of sky
They sit firm on delicate limbs
Until gravity and stones render them untenable and soft In accordance with all mortal laws
All is fragile and flesh
All is well and as it should be
Why I’m No Longer Mad At The World by Anonymous
I’m not mad at the world anymore
Or at least not for now
How can I be when I’ve been given the greatest gift of all?
The opportunity to create and make something of myself
To chase those dreams I’ve suppressed for so long
And witness the human spirit rise as schools are reopened, empty shelves are restacked and people are finally coming together – at a time when we need each other most
On my street there are drawings of rainbows in every house window & words of reassurance and kindness written on footpaths with chalk
“We’re all in this together”
“Stay safe”
“Everything will be ok”
So at a time when it feels all is lost, we need only walk around the block to see remnants of a society we once took for granted
And when the pages turn and we enter a new chapter, may we look back on this turbulent era as a time when we were all there for each other, and humanity finally got it right
