ELEMENTS 2014 Elements is the literary journal for Western Illinois University Editors Corin Bodenhamer Dana Breen Juliana Goodman Sarah Lambach Faculty Advisor John Schulze Cover Art and Layout Penn Stewart Banksy All students are encouraged to submit their work via email: [email protected] ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The Editors would like to acknowledge Erika Wurth, Barbara Ashwood, Barbara Harroun, Merrill Cole, and John Schulze for their role as teachers and mentors. The Editors would also like to thank the Department of English and Journalism at Western Illinois University, Document and Printing Services, and all the WIU students who submitted their work to this journal. Finally, the Editors would like to thank Rajean Schulze for her culinary contributions to the ELEMENTS Bake Sale. CONTENTS Corin Bodenhamer “Bibbidi-Bobidi-Boo”- 2nd Prize Cordell Fiction Award................................24 “Pa’s Skinny Baby with No Future”- Essay.................................................120 Alden Braddock “High”- Poem.............................................................................................79 “Noided”- Short Story................................................................................112 Dana Breen “Old Things”- Poem.....................................................................................89 “Something Behind Me”- Poem...................................................................90 “When Memories Were Fresh”- Poem.........................................................92 Victoria Drews “The Fallen Tree”- 3rd Prize Cordell Poetry Award........................................8 Joseph Fegan “Strider”- Poem..........................................................................................78 Juliana Goodman “Rosaleena”- Ist Prize Cordell Poetry Award................................................6 “Wing tips”- 2nd Prize Cordell Poetry Award................................................7 “Older in August”- 1st Prize Cordell Fiction Award.......................................9 “Shangri-La Willa”- 3rd Prize Bruner Nonfiction Award...............................65 Jason Herbst “A Princess by any Other Name”- Short Story..............................................93 iv Sarah Lambach “Snake House Daze”- 1st Prize Bruner Nonfiction Award............................40 “No One Noticed”- Poem...........................................................................105 “The Art of the Party”- Poem....................................................................106 “Glass Hearts”- Poem...............................................................................107 Jessica Mason McFadden “The Sack”- Poem......................................................................................116 “Martha Stewart Hades Me”- Poem...........................................................117 “Mercy for the Monarch”- Poem................................................................118 “My Aunt, the Ox”- Poem..........................................................................119 Zach McGowan “Sad, Queer, and Wearing Black”- 3rd Prize Cordell Fiction Award..............32 Shaun Robinson “Monster”- Short Story..............................................................................108 Lucas Taylor “Come Spring”- Short Story.........................................................................80 Thomas Waterford “The Sky Tore”- Short Story........................................................................133 DiAnn Vulich “He’s a Doozy”- 2nd Prize Bruner Nonfiction Award....................................52 “Open Doors”- Short Story.........................................................................143 v 1st Prize Cordell Larner Award for Poetry Rosaleena By Juliana Goodman The woman who took my father away Her name is Rosaleena Like a rose bending towards the sun Rosaleena is something else Wet black curls drip down her peach back Her hips are like WHAM Her breasts are like BAM Sit right up in your face Hi, please touch me, they say Yes, I’d like that, my father’s hands say Sundays when I’m over Rosaleena is a red dragon Her petal fuzz features Sharp grinded pointed Long black press-ons Tightly curled talons I am the tiny black scribble The burnt part of the crust The stranger who fucks up the Polaroid Rosaleena has my father At night They make beats under the stars Warm rhythms that go on and on 6 2nd Prize Cordell Larner Award for Poetry Wing Tips By Juliana Goodman Grandpa goes to work on the wing tips Says us young chirrens is wasteful We leave sweet meat and tendons Hanging from gray and black bones He eats without restraint Without a thought As long as it’s passed through grandma’s Sure and callused hands It’s good enough for him But we’re not from Mississippi Some things you just don’t eat The gray veins that still hold life A white joint that reminds us of a kneecap These are the things we leave Push to the side of the plate Spoon into the trash can Wait for Grandpa to go AAAAYYYY Bring me them wing tips 7 3rd Prize Cordell Larner Award for Poetry The Fallen Tree By Victoria Drews Half submerged, the tree Face-down like a drowned woman, leaf-hair rippling around Her face Like Medusa Or a pool of blood. How embarrassed the She-tree would be for Her submerged barren branches, Whose leaves have left, Ripped away with the undercurrent, Like the body’s flesh Ravaged by piranhas. The on-looking others – The still-standing trees, The birds, the rodents – Will watch her decay With termites and time. Until, finally, there is Nothing at which to look. 8 1st Prize Cordell Larner Award for Fiction Older in August By Juliana Goodman “No, I have money on this card. I checked the balance this morning, I can show you, I wrote it down.” My mother fumbles around in her purse and the elastic strap that she sewed herself snaps at the seam. Makeup, tissues, pennies and red Jolly Ranchers go flying across the floor. “Shit!” she says. I am down on the floor with my mother, trying to help her pick her things up one by one when I see that her forehead is scrunched up and she is trying not to cry. “Is there any way you can hold our food while we go and get the money to pay for it?” Lena asks the non-caring cashier. Even though we still play tag sometimes, my sister knows how and when to speak like an adult. “The meat’ll go bad,” the cashier says leaning her fat arm against the register like she’s tired or something. “We won’t be gone that long, we just have to go and get the money from—“ “—If the card doesn’t swipe, it means there’s no money. Look, I gotta help these people behind you.” I want to ask her why these other people are more important than us. We’ve been shopping and waiting in line forever! The bag boy wheels our cart of food away like the prize at the end of a game show we have just lost. My mother crams the rest of her things back in her purse and stands up. Lena falls behind her. “I know I have money on this card” she growls. 9 “Lady, it doesn’t matter if you can’t—“ “—IT DOES MATTER!” my mother screams. She screams so loud that everyone in the store gets quiet and starts staring at us. My mother looks at the cashier as though she will swallow her whole if she says something else. We all stand there staring at each other for a long time, waiting for something to happen. But the only thing that happens is Lena grabbing our mother’s arm and saying “Mami, it’s okay, let’s just go.” We leave the store without our food as the customers with cash stare and the sky crashes down over us. “I hate shrimp flavor!” I say when Lena sets my bowl in front of me. Our mother has locked herself in her bedroom again. “It’s either shrimp flavor noodles or grits, and before you ask, no I am not making you any damn grits tonight,” Lena says, sitting down across from me with her own bowl. Normally I would tell Mami on her because she would make Lena cook whatever I want, but I can tell my mother does not want to be bothered. And Lena is right, there is nothing but grits and noodles. Our food is still at the store. I take a bite of the nasty soup even though I know Lena will not tell on me if I throw it away. Mami will not open the door for either of us tonight. We eat in silence for a few minutes. But I want answers. “Why can’t we ask Daddy for money?” I ask. Lena laughs like I just told a hilarious joke. “Because all of Daddy’s money goes to Rosaleena.” Rosaleena is the woman who took my father away. She is short with long hair, wide hips and big boobs that sit on her chest like free samples. She is beautiful and I can tell why my father loves her, even though he’s supposed to love my mother. “I don’t believe you. I’m going to call him and ask him to bring us some real food!” Lena stops eating and gives me a look that says “sit down 10 before I hurt you”. She stole that from Mami. “God! You are so stupid. You can’t tell Daddy anything that goes on in this house or ask him for anything, do you understand me?” I glare at her. She is sixteen, but that does not make her the boss of me. “Why can’t I tell him? We need money and he has some!” “Because if you do, he’ll take you away and Rosaleena will be your mother with her big ta-ta’s in your face every morning. Is that what you want?” I can’t imagine anyone but Mami being my mother and I know Rosaleena doesn’t even like me. “No,” I say. “Then keep your mouth shut. Our business is nobody else’s, Cookie.” I listen to Lena. Not because she is the boss but because she is the only one who ever tells me the truth. When I say Mami will not open the door for me and Lena, I am right, but she does open it for Baby. He is a man, but I hear my mother call him baby when he comes in, even when the bed is rocking and she is screaming “Baaabbbyyy!” like they’re on a rollercoaster and she can’t believe how fast they’re going. I am laying next to Lena in our bed as we’re both trying not to laugh at the banging on the other side of the wall. BANG! BANG! BANG! After awhile, it is no longer funny. They have been whamming and bamming each other for so long that I think Baby has killed our mother.