Student Publishing Program ::

Sarah Yoon

Aging

And quite frankly, I didn’t care.

Please,

Don’t tell.

I know it’s shallow.

I know.

More than I can name or know even

But I’m still young enough to be prejudiced.

I don’t trust the radio

I turn it on to turn myself off.

Like being in detention.

I take it all in

He still doesn’t believe that I care.

I didn’t yet.

But old habits die hard.

Here’s when it all stops being intellectual

I visited the station on Thursday

And on Friday someone broke my heart.

I won’t say

Who

Or when

Or for how long,

Know that it exploded,

Turned purple and festered,

Grew wings then faltered,

And resigned itself

to my right thigh.

Sunday morning

and I need Jesus. In the way that

I keep avoiding

Scared of being full

For so long.

Hyperbolized when you’re heartbroken,

but the shouting helps.

Sunday evening

and I‘m going to yoga.

Traffic always conspires against me

As I drive in.

It takes twelve minutes longer to get into Berkeley

Than it does to drive away.

I’m always agitated as I take

Child’s pose I’m a hater by nature,

So you’ll have to trust me.

But I check my thoughts,

And the year,

And realize that I’m

Aging.

I smile

For the first time in days.

A simple triumph.

I’m further northeast than I’ve been

Since leaving the station.

The sound vacillates,

And echoes out for a bit.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]