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Breaking Color

Rachel Nutt, Honorable Mention, Poetry

All my seasons blend:

winter pastels and spring acrylics,

autumn oils smudged on a dull grey canvas.

Summers passed like Monet’s blurred edges

with the dusty taste of sun and paint,

hiding in my cousin’s sunroom.

I want to go back

into the house, but his hands

are hooks and our shadows merge

as grass tears under his heel –

his face glowing, red

and out of breath,

upturned and glass-eyed,

leaves me sprawling open

shivering under twisted lilacs.

Is there anything you remember?

the bluecoats asked me.

Anything, anything at all?

I can’t help you,

I told them.

All my seasons blend.

A student-run national literary magazine for high school writers and editors