Pictures from the Dark Room

by Sophie Larvick

justice for (fill in the blank)

there she is. 

you’ve been looking for her all night and you are very tired

but what you were looking for is sitting on the front stoop of your house

looking miserable

her left hand gripping bombay sapphires 

and they sparkle the same way

and she is choking it, like weeds do

but you know just from looking 

that you’re the real parasite

every time you turn around, there she is. 

the girl at the party, crying in the bathroom 

the girl with shady eyes that you walked past on your way to school 

who could not meet your gaze 

“why did she look so uncomfortable?” 

you thought 

that day you asked your friends if you intimidated people

you do not

"the girl with the shady eyes"

there she is again. 

you two always seem to be walking in the same direction now 

you can feel her eyes on you

her friends’ and lovers’ eyes on you 

some days you think that the whole world is staring up and down, up and down your spine. 

but finally, here you are. the cat got out of the bag, and you couldn’t catch it if you tried. 

hope it’s your last 

i hope it haunts you

o.i.d.

tasting rye bread for the second time today

two times too many

can’t stand rye bread

but when i taste it the second time, i think of you

of how it was all for you

of the bone-breaking contortions 

of the descent 

of the new world

of my grandmother, yelling

 “oh, the humanity!”

"of my grandmother, yelling / 'oh, the humanity!'"

my double-sided toothbrush- yes the one you hear about all the time- well no, dear, this isn’t about that

maybe it is

if not, i think it would be about the broken glass i cut my hand on last night

while trying to fix my mirror

it would be about my mirror and how we used to stand in front of it together 

because the two of us just looked so nice on each other 

"because the two of us just looked so nice on each other"

i looked a bit better then 

you probably did too

i don’t really remember and i haven’t seen you in a while, so i guess i wouldn’t know

but it really isn’t all that important

just as long as we both know we don’t miss each other 

i don’t spend as much time with my mother’s guitar as i did at the beginning 

or at the end

i have been seeing the notebook more though

and with my memory now, the thesaurus 

i have been looking around more when i go for a walk 

i didn’t forget anything- it can just be good to remind 

but it all reminds 

the burnt down house, the elementary school, the sunrise, the birds 

"god, the birds / what did you say about them?"

god, the birds 

what did you say about them? 

i didn’t really forget that part either

i just want to hear it again

even though it wasn’t really funny

requiem for a child queen

been thinking about highway overpasses

dandelion seeds 

my beaten-down front porch

and wildflowers in the soccer field 

violas, peonies, and trilliums 

in the backyard

"...wildflowers in the soccer field"

and just a few months ago i was living a life so different that i’m now nostalgic of it

driving in the countryside

angry and confused

sleepwalking, sleeptalking

lying dormant, literally

i don’t miss it 

i don’t really miss any of my past 

but if i could put together a puzzle 

of one scene 

i would pick one of those summer days that seemed to drag on and on

albums and picture books

on and on

the dusty attic 

on and on

"the gnats in the cocktails have sunk deep"

rain on the sidewalk  

cigarette butts on the playground 

soft, blond hair 

adjective, adjective noun

noun preposition article noun noun preposition 

on and on

hush

it’s more freeing to take it all less seriously 

which makes you right 

it’s just

not that deep

but the gnats in the cocktails have sunk deep

then it’s night, and staring into that depth makes my head hurt 

because it means i’m there, 

trying my very, very best not to drown again

it is an inky and crushing emptiness, and i am seeing rainbows on the tiles of the bathroom floor

you were right

you were right

you were right

and i’m sorry

on and on

"it is an inky and crushing emptiness, and i am seeing rainbows on the tiles of the bathroom floor"

but there are holes poked through the top to breathe

on and on and on 

the world when it was worth living in was a soft and hazy chunk of space and time 

that i don’t remember much of 

snow globes, music boxes, teddy bears, ducklings

there was a time when i heard weight in the sentence, “forgive me, father, for i have sinned”

and now, once there are things to apologize for 

it is meaningless 

"THE WORLD WHEN IT WAS WORTH LIVING IN

WAS A SOFT AND HAZY CHUNK OF SPACE AND TIME"

poetry by Sophie Larvick, illustration by Isabella Brown and Lila Hudgins