Wayward Transitions
I kept my rosary in a little plastic jar,
pearls and sterling silver
unmoved.
It stayed cold by the window.
Sterile
White walls paint me blue.
How-to manuals
on decluttering.
Bathe in breathe in bleach,
scrub the skin off feet
with photocopied
washcloths. He will break
every scratched CD,
impure sound cannot
be allowed to mar
pure ears. She’s counting
calories in her
cold reeking kitchen.
Drum machines and synth
too simple for old
radio. Money
making schemes rotting.
Soft childhood dreams.
L.S. Woods is a first-year student at New England College majoring in Creative Writing and Education. He spends most of his time with headphones on or his nose-deep in a book when not in class or at work. L.S. plans to become an English teacher, and eventually a professor at NEC- he is a life-long learner. He has a pet cat, Ashton, whom he devotes many cuddles to each day.
The Henniker Review 