HORIZONS Volume 30 Spring 2015 Editors: Nicholas Aquilino: Webmaster Mary Awad: Fiction Editor Sarah Backus: Photo/Art Editor Kaitlyn Bush: Nonfiction/Essay Editor Mikaela Marbot: Poetry Editor William Sanchez: Editor at Large Sandra Young: Faculty Editor Introduction This year’s issue of Horizons is titled “Limbo: A Collection of Liminal Spaces.” Life is one gigantic stage of transitions where we are in perpetual states of limbo, or luminality, a threshold between our previous selves and the new selves we are in the process of defining. Who are we as we work through the different stages of our lives? We constantly toe the lines between the different stages of our life. Are we - heroes or villains? The naïve or the wise? The explorer or the homebody? Each section of Horizons delves into our collective experiences as we work through these different stages of our lives. Horizons is thrilled to celebrate the uncertainty of these liminal spaces and encourages the continued exploration of the self. Travel with us. Together we celebrate the transitions we experience in this year’s collection of work. Announcement Horizons is in its 30th year of publication. It is time for a new name, one that continues to speak of and point to the future of its contributing writers, artists, and photographers. Vistas will premiere in Spring 2016. TABLE OF CONTENTS Innocence 1. Sarah Backus – Balloons 2. Matt Wagner – Honesty 3. Christina Ciufo – An Eight Year Old’s Arrhythmia 4. Danielle D’Onofrio – Dress-Form 5. Meredith Conroy – Growing Up 6. Danielle D’Onofrio – The Butterfly 7. Raymond Corriea - Pure Memory 8. Edward Feeley – Snow Fell in Winter 9. Elise Bean – Chika Lover/Explorer 1. Carrianne Dillon – Pont des Arts, In the style of Henry James 2. Raymond Corriea – Fresh Love 3. Brent Middleton – Winters at the Beach 4. Christina Ciufo – Serpent’s Grip 5. Linda Vichiola-Coppola – Exploits of a Cemetery Tourist 6. Edward Garrity – Crossbreed Series 7. Matt Wagner – Hang 8. Mark Podesta – Green Aisles 9. Dennis Hutt – Gone to the Moon 10. Samantha King – A Fighter 11. Allie Potenza – Springtime 12. Sarah Backus – Fantasy Island 13. Christine Zangrillo – Spell Bound 14. Caroline Leather – My Pain in the Boot 15. Dennis Hutt – You have such sparkly eyes 16. Leanne Scorcia – Pintup 17. Melanie Vollono – Misadventured Piteous Overthrows 18. Willow Holschuh – Sans Regrets (French) 19. Willow Holschuh – Sans Regrets (English) 20. Elise Bean – Crescendo Outlaw/Hero 1. William Sanchez – Memorial Day: A Weekend to Forget 2. John Brownell – A Take on Gambling 3. Brent Middleton – Eternal Commitment 4. Danielle D’Onofrio – Anti-Smoking 5. Kim Snyder – The Epic Heroism of Samwise Gamgee 6. Brent Middleton – Best Friends 7. Michaela Lachance – Chronic Illness and Frailty 8. Antoinette DiVisconti – Bus Accident 9. Judith Tacuri Brito – Kick out the Hooligans 10. Michaela Lachance – Something 11. Joseph A. Heenan – The Wall 12. Mary Awad – Deny Thy Father, Refuse Thy Name, So You May be American 13. Kaitlyn Bush – Grape Juice 14. Edward Garrity - Soo, I Was Thinking Ruler/Creator 1. Elise Bean – Bliss 2. Brent Middleton – Cartoon Shadows 3. William Sanchez – Let’s Go To Yogi’s 4. Leanne Scorcia – Brooklyn 5. Taylor Walsh – Subconscious Sexism in Voting 6. Kaitlyn Bush – Porphyria and the Lady: Perfecting Femininity 7. Sarah Backus – Solitude 8. Taylor Magnotti – To Be Fair 9. Jane Kenney – Better Safe Than Sorry 10. William Sanchez – SHU Built It, The Weed Smokers Came 11. Linda Vichiola-Coppola – A Diaper Happens Sage/Philosopher 1. Tess Pieragostini – Contextual Evidence: A Collection of Vignettes 2. Edward Garrity – Profile Picture 3. Mark Podesta – Why I No Longer Want To Be Gay 4. Chelsea Frenette - Aristotle’s Prime Mover 5. Maribel Paredes – Overload 6. Stephanie Sorbara – Gut Bacteria and Their Influence on Metabolic Disorders 7. Maribel Paredes – Study After Tim O’Brian 8. Raymond Corriea – Live These Words 9. Carrianne Dillon – Music, Literature, and Trauma 10. Sarah Backus – Adventure is Out There 11. Rachel Andriunas – Vicious Human Nature 12. Brent Middleton – My Philosophy of 13. Mikaela Marbot – I Text Therefore I Love 14. Megan Ofner – Grow Up Honesty Matt Wagner I miss the confusion of youth That delicate yet persistent realm of emotion coalesced with thought That phantom friend who followed in my shadow and in my tears That always arrived both a step too late and a second too soon That spark that flickered brighter than the stars at whom I declared my dreams I miss those friends The grabbing of arms and clasping of hands Those nights spent in monologues whose words mattered little But weight mattered most The press of the passenger seats and the symphony of taillights The baffling bills and the laughs surrounding The simplicity in the statements we found so complex I miss the warmth of flowing blood The network of love and passion beneath my skin That burned purely and clean And heated the air when we strove for something great That nullified all traces of the elements So long as we kept turning The highest peak of the tallest tower could not compare To the exaltation in my chest I miss the agony that screwed my eyes Those feelings of hurt and delusion that colored my sleep Something magically sinister that held me in its clutches Yet tempted me to deeper levels The kindling of thoughts wicked and elusive A land uncharted behind my lids And the aspiration to know it leaked out from behind them Onto the scape of my days I miss the expansion of my heart The promise of passing days in that graying haven That made needed the space in my memory For every new face I was destined to meet To hold or to chase To spurn or to save Whether with me at every sun Or seldom with wavering days Those who came to know my name Became something more I miss whatever untrained sense Told me that tomorrow would only come if I willed it That the portrait would spin only the colors I chose In my perfectly limited canvas I had no need for anything beyond it And my palette seemed it would never run dry A lingering sentiment tells me it’s still fresh But weary eyes welled with tears provide Another source for the brush. An Eight Year Old’s Arrhythmia Christina Ciufo All I remember was darkness. I was only eight when my world changed. I still can remember that day in 2001 when I could no longer participate in cheerleading, any sport, or any activity. Some days I am still haunted by the vulnerable version of my former self in her cheerleading outfit crying. I still remember the day when my perspective of the world changed forever. It was a blustering icy October day at a vacant football field in downtown Shelton. My mom watched me practice while she sat on the steel benches with her friends. The mothers talked about the latest gossip and my friends and I stepped in line to begin our cheerleading routine. The tips of our toes met in sync to the beat as the cheerleading coach clapped her hands steadily. However, I could not keep up to the beat of her hands. My legs refused to move. They felt stiff. Then, I suddenly felt a rush coursing through my head. A roaring tremor in my head commanded my body to stop. I found myself spinning out of control, as my surroundings became a blur. Everything, even the people, had no detail. They were massive clouds without a face. Then, everything went dark. “Christina…Christina…Please wake up!” Mrs. Brewster whispered in my ear. “My baby girl! Please wake up! Please respond!” my mom whimpered as tears streamed down her face. I could hear muffled voices around me. My eyes did not want to open to the world. The darkness was all I could see. Then, I felt something icy on my back. With the phantom touch of ice and steel, I had the energy to open my eyes. As I opened them, everything became clearer. My surroundings were clear, even my mother was not a blur. I saw my mother weeping with Mrs. Brewster beside her. Then, I turned slightly to my side. As I turned to the football field, I found myself on the other side of the fence: watching girls my age continuing to practice their routines without me. What’s going on, Mommy? Why am I not playing with the other girls? Why are you crying, Mommy? Why am I crying? Worry and fear consumed my mother’s face as she looked at me. I, an eight year old, could not comprehend the thoughts that raced through her mind. Slightly turning her head to Mrs. Brewster, she feared for the worse and she told Mrs. Brewster the situation at hand. “Patty, you have to get Christina to a doctor. There might be something wrong with her. What if it were to happen again to her? What if she never wakes up?” Mrs. Brewster calmly said to my mother. … Later that week, my parents took me to the children’s hospital in New Haven. I can still recall how I was bewildered by the events from the last week. As the doors opened wide, there were many children like me laughing and playing with their stuffed bears while the infants whimpered at the sight of people in long white robes. We sat for a while until they called my name with a teddy bear in their hand. That teddy bear with the blue bow around its neck was for me and I held onto it throughout my examination.