Chloe Lyda
Pronouns: she/her/hers
Chloe is a fourth year studying Government, English, Global Sustainability, and Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. When she isn’t writing four page stories or multiple poems in a series, she is hiking with her friends, in meetings at Alumni Hall, or running down Grady Avenue. She loves English Breakfast tea, and the day doesn’t feel complete without listening to a few songs. “Backyard Boy” by Claire Rosinkranz is the current go-to.
I sometimes wonder if I have pockets full of invisible nickels that try to ground me on the days I don’t know what I’m doing.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth
in through your nose, out through your mouth”
It’s not alright and it hasn’t been alright, not since you yelled at me over flowers, but the flowers weren’t really the issue.
“We” being my generation—specifically those of us currently in college. We have been getting constantly ragged on for being lazy and disorganized, and uncaring.
It was that burning sensation,
the one that grabs hold
at the base of your throat,
and you cough as if that will help.
warm, autumnal orange
the kind that made me want
to grab my docs, and a pair of shears
and make the 26 minute drive to Chiles
to pick the perfect pumpkin
The claiming of the presents I wrapped was to keep the peace, the lying was to protect themselves—everyone needs protection, right?
A trembling that I couldn’t identify. A glance around the room—Kira across from me, Emma to my left, my professor of two years to my right. A reading I had done at least three times before. A comment that I knew made sense. And yet, I’m trembling. It may have started while my hand was raised. Look at her shoes, and hers and hers.