Clam
My oyster is the world, take it
fried not boiled, not fond of
the idea of waste, he said I was
recyclable but he didn’t say ME.
I open, bloom underwater
flush out and drown in waves
swallow salt and cough lungs
full, emptied. Meta-physical
or metaphorical, I see my world
in the hues of a rainbow. Conch
shells of land, shells in hands.
Shells in hair and resting on necks.
Shells from crabs, rimmed with
bits and sprinkles of earth,
volcanic ruins to sedimented mountains
I walk unarmed. Unearthed I am found.
Vortex of elements at the tips of
my fingers, a feeling left untouched
no place remaining solid, I
crunch down, the bite of a clam.
A fresh pearl awaiting inside.
In an open letter to the Chancellor published on Apr. 25, a group of 49…
A woman died after she was hit by a large cylindrical steel drum that rolled…
Hundreds of student protesters and community activists gathered in front of the Cathedral of Learning…
SGB released a statement on Sunday “regarding the Pitt Gaza solidarity encampment,” in which the…
Around 80 protestors from the Pitt faculty union and United Steelworkers gathered outside of the…
Editor-in-chief Betul Tuncer reflects on the role of student journalists in society and says thank…