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SYNAPSE The Art & Literary Magazine of

Haddonfield Memorial High School

Editorial Staff

Caitlin Boehmcke Michelle Carroll

Jenn Cossaboon Caitlin Fechter Michelle Frost Cole Kamish Kyle Laidig

Sarah Landis Maggie Leone Nora Loughry

Taylor McDermott Caitlin Piserchia

Coral Pistilli William Reed

Meredith Reese Jackie Sikkema Lizzy Sikkema

Faculty Advisor

Mr. Scorsolini

SYNAPSE

Winter 2007

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This is poetry- quiet ink symbols printed on stale

white paper that hold the world

together.

Rachel Howard

31 Lauren Martin

30

Oblivion he sat by the fountain. its mist got to him cooled him. he sat for a good time and the city kept walking by. the water glowed and drowned everything else out. so he sat unthinking and consumed. alone and awed then the boy became hungry. Connor Burns

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Lindsey Sherel “Circles” cover Coral Pistilli “Introduction To Poetry” 4 Kyle Laidig “Teeth Like Ivory Caskets” 4 Julia Banford “The Artist” 5 Lizzy Sikkema “From The Map Of The Complicated World” 6 Claire Wells “Sunclock Buildings” 7 Rachel Howard “A Concrete Walk” 8 Kyle Laidig “Fan, and the Writing on the Roof” 9 Kathryn Macconi “But I Sit On The Edge” 10 Taylor McDermott “Real Bliss” 11 Kate Golia “Tool Puddle” 11 Chenxi Lin “Soliloquy To Madness” 12 Kyle Laidig “Dichotomy Of Consciousness” 12 Margaret Emmet “Jack” 13 Naomi Gross “Heaven’s Twin” 13 Cory Kram “Seyelence” 14 Connor Burns “love” 15 Nora Loughry “Dreaming Of Other Things” 16 Erica Johnson “Girl” 17 Taylor McDermott “A Secret Letter To Daddy” 18 Rachel Howard “A Brief Second” 19 Liz Taffet “Face and Flower” 20 Erika Wendel “Fighting With Confusion” 21 Kelly Harrington “Life On Pause” 22 Liz Taffet “Machine On Wire Springs” 23 Taylor McDermott “A Park In Philadelphia” 24 Sarah Quickel “Birds In Flight” 25 Hannah Murphy “Red Go” 26 Julia Banford “Realization” 27 Kate Golia “Honeycomb” 28 Manon McGuigan “Thirteen Ways To Look At A Cucumber” 29 Connor Burns “Oblivion” 30 Lauren Martin “Dali” 31

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Teeth Like Ivory Caskets Sat on the walk Children dance, airplanes crash Milk curdles in double time Stuck in red Jell-O, awake But asleep in his own mind. An army of flies, buzzing battalion Swept under a pink sea of gum And half-eaten hotdogs Inverted pupils, dirt canyon creased crown. The past is present, in a future of black Swept into a sewer, Lowered into above Shimmering, shining Teeth like ivory caskets. Kyle Laidig

Introduction To Poetry I ask them to take a poem And first just read it. Do not dissect it Like a frog, searching for disease. Or judge it, like a dog In a kennel show. Besides, there is no pure-bred poem. But read it once for Beauty Enjoyment Let your emotions gallop free- Don’t saddle them with meaning. Then read it again, Never for meaning, But for understanding, For you’ll know what it means to you. Coral Pistilli

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Thirteen Ways To Look At A Cucumber

I. The cucumber floats in a jar of vinegar,

Staring out at a changing world, Knowing

It will always be the same.

II. The cucumber is covered in dirt;

It wipes off very easily.

III. To a cucumber,

The trellis is the Tower of Babel.

IV. Who knows what sound the cucumber

makes When it is picked from its vine?

V.

The rot starts small, at one end of the cucumber.

By the end of the week, It’s inedible.

VI.

When the cucumber gets too old It becomes part of the dirt

And all the little seeds become new cu-cumbers.

VII.

Cucumber flowers are orange and flam-boyant,

But nobody picks them To put them in a vase.

VIII. What’s the difference between

Brown dirt and A green cucumber?

IX.

Cucumbers live in the sea, too But no one eats them.

X.

A cucumber, Baked by the sun, showered by the rain,

Nourished by the earth, Is a cucumber.

XI.

A cucumber, like a watermelon, Is cool, refreshing, and green;

But don’t eat the outside.

XII. Cucumber leaves are spiny But they make great stew.

XIII.

The cucumber fed the mice And the squirrels

And the birds But it didn’t feed me.

Manon McGuigan

28 Kate Golia

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The Artist You dial his number on the payphone and listen to the familiar answering machine. You hang up and your feet take you home. The door is locked. Your pockets empty. The keys are on the coffee table. Your legs lead the way to the train station. You read the clock and realize you’re too late to ride away. You end up at the beach. You pick up a twig and trace lines in the sand. Everything you are becomes shapes and people and symbols and words. Before the tide can wash it all away… Everything makes sense. Julia Banford

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From the Map of the Complicated World

I know you are reading this poem

While stopped at a red light,

Your engine idle and the recycled air pouring out of its vents.

I know you are reading this poem

When you are seated at a boisterous bar,

Its deafening attitude questioning your agreement to come

While stuffing an overcooked hamburger into your watering mouth.

I know you are reading this poem

When you are watching your child in the Christmas Pageant,

Video camera in one hand following the movements of the squirming bodies on stage

And this poem in the other because you have no other time to read poems.

I know you are reading this poem

When you are cramming for your history test because

You cannot concentrate on the dull language

So you read this to spice up its dullness.

I know you are reading this poem

Because you were told to, but glad you were

Because you are reeled in by the art displayed between the lines.

I know you are reading this poem as you lay in bed,

Your sweating glass of water on your nightstand

With one eye struggling to stay open

Eating the words on the page until there are none left to chew.

Lizzy Sikkema

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Realization Average, desperately searching, she was a girl with a banquet to attend. Her dress didn’t fit. too loose too tight all at once. She wore her stockings too dark to cover the scars and bruises. Her brows were asymmetrical. Her lips chapped. Her skin too white. Later she sat at the table and sipped from her glass. She excused herself to the bathroom.

The mirror reflected her face. New shadows under her jaw line made her smile. She moved in closer and saw how perfectly the earring sat in her ear. How perfect she was. Julia Banford

26 Hannah Murphy

7 Claire Wells

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A Concrete Walk

Quarter to ten, a concrete walk, This isn’t how it usually is.

But you, how have you appeared here, Suddenly like the fog?

Rolling in. Water dances to the wind

Lapping at our ears, the dock Doesn’t move in its berths.

Faraway lights, blurry and quiet. You stare out to sea, the tips

Of your shoes hanging off the wood, Part of the sole exposed.

Is that a faraway ship Or just a cloud? You ask yourself.

Tomorrow, it will be over

But now you leave Ahead of time and

Walk quietly down the dock until The light from the city

Swallows you up.

Rachel Howard

25 Sarah Quickel

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A Park in Philadelphia I sit and stare at the many colors, Of the rags and statements tied, To each person walking by me, And you, dear Emerson. Oh, it is but a long time ago you lived, Writing, explaining a theory these people, Have not even thought of. I wonder, sitting on the bench of Dried green paint, Where are these people going And where have they been? With every step each person takes, I Feel lost and found. A house of written words spilling Out of the eyes of every individual. They are all transparent, dear Emerson, They see all. And now, I think only but this homeless dog, Peering out from beneath our bench, Is the only one who understands us. This dog, he has no home, no laws, no expression. He lives with simplistic values, They ones you taught. The ones you, and only you, knows we’re missing. Taylor McDermott

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Kyle Laidig

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But I Sit On the Edge The window squeaks as we slip out into the dark I can feel the warm of the house escape Making the cold of the night dull Feeling our way in the dark We walk away from the warm And through a path we have worn Over dirt hills and past half-made houses We walk, speaking faintly Which makes the time move faster As we approach, we are careful Although no trouble has come before We know what could happen if two lone girls run into the wrong people But we soon hear a familiar voice whisper our names We settle, knowing that now we are safe and They have made it, too. The tallest boy begins to lead the way He knows that is his job, and is the first to scale the small rail Surrounding the porch From there he uses what looks like darkness to boost himself up But we know what is there, what has helped us climb before As I wait for him to climb, I trace the letters with my fingers I can feel the curve of each letter, and remember how I’ve traced them before P-O-L-I-C-E And it is that “E” which I use to climb after him I crawl onto the crooked roof, and wait for the two others who follow behind He again begins to lead, but there is only a small wall to climb And then we reach a flat void of panels Stretching out with empty places But I sit on the edge. From this spot I can see everyone We are alone, and no one can touch us He reaches into his pocket to remove the only thing we think can make us happy So I begin to dissolve into a place only called Nirvana. Kathryn Macconi

23 Liz Taffet

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Life on Pause unable to catch her breath, she finds that her life has tossed her on a journey with friends and others piling into the open back of a pickup truck in the dark night hours they all sit in the truck bed as it starts moving their conversation speeds up she feels belonging and perfect happiness her worries left behind on the side of the dirt road they scream as the truck splashes through ditches and talk and sing and laugh sharing in the peace of the night as the best time often shorter it seems too soon when the truck stops and they are unloaded now it is back to reality after a brief rest where stress and worry were tossed at the side of the road they always catch up Kelly Harrington

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Real Bliss They walked in a straight line. He did not know what To expect. She knew, Everything. They stopped At a bridge, Its eyes staring at the tips Of their toes. They step, breaking the splinters, Ignoring the set Of baby birds Wondering where their mother went. Now in a field, Still staring back At the bridge. They walk into the woods And find, A blissful group of trees, Scratching their backs, Breaking their fingernails. Still, he is curious. She does not say, But they are lost.

They walk backwards now, Trying to retrace their steps. But all they can do is Find new paths, Until they see it; The bridge. Its eyes now closed, A group of kids Line its body Screaming at the Painful red. They painted it. He looks At her, Grabbing her hand. And that, Is when, They felt it. Taylor McDermott

Kate Golia

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Soliloquy to Madness Madness, my unrepentant lover: I first met you as a childhood sweetheart, too shy to hold your delicate fingers tightly but softly. But you my love, were love. I should never push you away, apart, but I solaced solitarily in the soapy distance. I found newer sweethearts- anguish, delirium, sorrow, hysteria, vengeance- never realizing they all led me to you. You, were love. Now I open these arms far-stretched, wide! Just jumping in, jump in with your fire of quiet desperation- uncanny desperation, but sweet desperation, desperation, my love. You want an embrace- I give you an embrace! An embrace is such that chill me so deep, so deep into my rotting, renewing bones. But this is my love- our love. Madness was love-the first eyes I eyed, are love. Chenxi Lin Kyle Laidig

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Fighting With Confusion Oh, Confusion, I would like to destroy you— The pesky little fly that you are Racing around my head Your soft, prominent buzzing sound— A constant reminder of the pressure You continually put upon me I should squash you, Confusion Into a stagnant matter Finally settled, buzz subdued You will become a single thing— A fact, not a question or worry You think I don’t know You’ve been zipping around me For months now. But I know. I have wasted so much energy now, Trying to pin you down. But it seems you will always be there I guess I just attract you, Confusion. The pesky little fly that you are.

Erika Wendel

20 Liz Taffet

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Jack Sitting in traffic on the interstate, Under air heavy with heat, sweat and impatience, Feet out the window. There’s Jack and the Hudson and the stained undershirt, A faceless girl beside him, fanning herself with an envelope. Hey, Jack, leave my brother alone already! What is the matter with you, anyways? Windows down, smooth jazz blaring, His eyes are bloodshot, mad-man stubble on the chin, Shadows under the eyes, Mumbling nonsense. He’s only a kid. Really. So would you quit already? The world is beautiful, Filled with so much insane joy and desperate misery, Is that not enough for you? Margaret Emmet

Heaven’s Twin

I stood on top of the Grindewald High above the dirt that scattered the ground of Switzerland

If this place was not heaven, It must have been heaven’s twin

The cold, dry air, thousands of feet up Dried my sweat

All my heart, soul, and energy Had been drained to reach this point

And all too soon, it was time to come down I didn’t want to return to Earth

Where babies cry and people starve So many people had experienced this place

But I seemed to be the only one Who couldn’t seem to let it go

Naomi Gross

14 Cory Kram

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A Brief Second They got there first, Four young surrounded by one, crumpled thing in a chair. Karaoke is done, I guess. They start to wheel in, or shuffle in. Some are pushed by nurses and placed in a corner like used goods. They scream. Some don’t like where they are. Used goods? They talk? I guess. But mostly to complain. Cranberry juice and stale cookies lay on the table. The ones who can walk crawl over to the flower tablecloth and scoop up some food To nibble or chew on. Some eat their Styrofoam cups. “That’s not food, dear,” and the nurse takes the cup from the withered hand.

They stare out at us, this circle of young people and some thing. These young people with dark hair and skin that bounces back when you pinch it. We laugh. They stare- they have nothing else to do. The game is over. No one won. They walk out the door, the lonely eyes of the old follow a dream. Rachel Howard

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A Secret Letter to Daddy I told you all my secrets once, You tried to understand. Tied eyes to regretful images, Mommy still doesn’t know. You said you wouldn’t tell. I used to look more like you, I still have our taste buds though. I used to see you all the time, But now you’re a phone call away. You never told her, no. I recall those games we played, Zombie people marching towards her. Digital slang in digital minds. You were always the player, I was always the brain. I found a note for you one day, Angry slurs from an activist’s mind. I started to cry that day, Until I saw a cardinal. And then it all seemed better. I’m sorry about that call, The one from after school. Worried sounding inflatable tears. Mistake lies, you never liked him anyway, A single line with another chance. I wonder if you still suspect, After I promised you no more. I’m more mature now daddy, Even if it was a year ago. You know now daddy, I really just love you so. Taylor McDermott

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love paris has africans. lots of them. red eye flight into the city. i don’t sleep in the seats. but i feel good. it’s raining. i mean, once i get away from the plane and the people. on the shuttle, a girl vomited. she was ignored. what are we supposed to do? in the airport are soldiers with guns and many travelers. it’s raining. we find a train and get in. an old man is texting on his cell phone. i liked that. it’s sunday. all along the railways there is graffiti. gorgeous graffiti. and across from us is a gorgeous girl with a friend and an other friend going to church. from church. and she’s gorgeous. and she looks at me and speaks to my father. and i don’t speak French. and i look at her. and imagine that she’s trying to avoid looking at me. Connor Burns

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Dreaming of Other Things It was quite a scene A Gatsby party for sure Without beads or champagne. Cheers to the autumn nights School spirit never followed us Into the gazebo But at that time Nothing else mattered. It’s still a blur of colors The smell of the ice cream And of the falling leaves. We never thought about the trees What were they to do When the leaves had gone? Stripped and bare Numbed and naked hearts. He grazed my elbow His fingertips full of warmth And the rest I do not remember. And when I was violated He was there, my rescue. It’s funny how easily We lose sight of these gifts And drift away from those With whom we only have a short time.

What I wouldn’t give to just Simply remember. Every thought, feeling, and gaze. I cannot go back To the places we have been I cannot go forward Toward the things I need to be. I will just sit here for a while Thinking of turtles and cigars And then I will lie awake in bed And dream of other things. Nora Loughry

17 Erica Johnson