by GABBY AVENA and KALIDAS SHANTI
A hold unto our-
selves, hidden under blankets
that color the air
red is the evening cupped in
eggnog and projector light
playing against skin.
Here, bodies begin to blur
outside softened lines
like doodles against a palm
though smeared we draw each other
into this small world:
four hands, plush toys, treats piled
high, books become beams
for sheets we stain with butter
coated hands popping the night
up and over us
red hot. Duck plush pops it back.
Laughter. Pop–the kiss
of your knee knocking mine made
monument, caught in motion.
To dance though confined
by night the plushies dougie
in our ambered stead
‘til space between us melts, sweet
we bliss our tongues together,
lingering after
we unravel: the tattoo
of a Fruit Roll-Up
stained, resists fading, resists
the night drooping its only eye
as the lens shudders
light, cover me soft before
this world ends again.
Yet it does. All I can give
is timid recreation,
a pillow’s imprint,
small cherishings of crumbles.
Love survives this way:
constellations, signals of
warmth you know more than you feel.
We swallow stars, count
their droplets on our palms—light
enough to carry
Writer | Gabby Avena ’25 | gavena25@amherst.edu
Editor | Kevin Roodnauth ’26 | kroodnauth26@amherst.edu
Artist | Abi Hernandez ’25 | ahernandez16@amherst.edu