when people ask me, I say

when people ask me, I say

 

I’m stealing his eyes

in an assemblage of bodies

familiar faces

They don

charcoal outlines &

coruscate teeth

 

In awe of you before me

Two types of feelings

engulf me like twin

serpents,

sinful, entwined:

 

  1.  We’d be better separate—

A match &

gasoline

 

  1. It’s all in frame,

an involuntary fantasy,

a supercut

We move like oil paintings

our lines blend into each other

our strokes brisk

Sugarcane byproducts mess with

our organs

The clock reads 0:00—we

burst & we start over

primal rush

People envy us—

we steal their glances &

hoard them in the limited space

between our torsos

The supercut concludes

when we study each other,

parallel, drawn-out stares

 

These warm nights with you are

wild, and meaningless

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Open Mic Night in which I Took Gold Out on a Date

My bio (to announce me) was: “Alyssa Vigorito is a sophomore majoring in English and minoring in Digital Journalism, who writes with the purpose of unsettling the mind. She is a chicken noodle soup enthusiast and your good friend. Her poem “Take Gold Out On a Date” is about a whimsical nothing.”

Yesterday night  I was one of several speakers at the English Honor Society’s (Sigma Tau Delta, or ‘STD’. I can’t wait to be part of STD haha) open mic event, in which students could share poems or prose. I designed the poster for the event as well.

This’ll be brief, no anecdotes or anything, as I have to read and write a critique on submissions for my publishing class. Here’s what I wrote and read:


Take gold out on a date

 

take gold out on a date;

don’t ask him why fools are on his tail,

attached like parasites sucking golden

blood through their silver tongues;

do ask him when he turned to Midas—

a compliment;

buy gold a $14 mojito

empty bottle requiem

another round;

kiss gold in the Penn Station Auntie Anne’s

golden pretzels twisted like our

lives—a Jenga masterpiece

cadence of the footsteps

another round;

plan a tattoo about how he’s all you see;

fall in love with gold in the same manner

we shower: what was once claustrophobic

is an act we wish to

savor—

in torrential downpour or

remaining drops

With love, Alyssa

A Murder at Bellarmine Only Fairfield University Students Can Solve

Approximately 75 students will be present for the murder taking place at Bellarmine Hall this Saturday. Fairfield University’s Student Association has put together the social event in the spirit of Halloween, encouraging students to scramble around the first floor of the mansion for clues in order to find the murderer before they become the next victim.

Continue reading “A Murder at Bellarmine Only Fairfield University Students Can Solve”