Fitchburg Line

Shadows shiver despondently,
dust quivers beside
arid words. Unwanted tracks

dare us to unlock our eyes
into unbounded existence
with irises bleached

blue, hair whisks grey dusk,
washes, blankets. We beg to
blend into gravel ground beneath

unknown commuter trains
destined for Fitchburg Mass.
Pupils indefinite, face drawn

into cartoons
misshapen, misproportioned,
sky surrounds sun, shadows in half-light

infinitely swell,
don’t think, dive between railroad ties
like summers you and I spent

evacuating public pools.
Now our hands sweat, lips mist,
eyes mushroom, air horns howl

Legs and arms clipped and caged.
In ink, scripted time
covers, shadows everything.

Jake Rosenberg is 22, and heading into his final semester at Weslyean University in Middletown, Connecticut. He has never previously been published. The goal of his poetry is to explore the oppression that modern society thrusts upon the alienated individual. His poetry frequently appears thin in aesthetic performance, in order to keep the reader from feeling comfortable. In a society where constant movement is idolized, understood expectations prioritized, and attention spans are demonized, there is space in Rosenberg’s poetry to see all of this played out. Finally, he hopes to situate his poetry in a losing (although sometimes ambiguous) battle with this previously described society. It is trapped in any possible escape it attempts to procure.

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