Spencer Brownstein ’18
This month we are excited to share the poetry of James Hartzer ’20. James is a sophomore Creative Writing major from South Bend, Indiana. Through his writing he seeks to explore identity in all its varying forms. He has been doing so through poetry, especially as he produces content in preparation for CUPSI, the national slam poetry competition, in April.
In the House of the Vanquished Lie Many Things
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
Bookshelves stacked with books once thought too intimidating,
too mature, too frightening.
dust settles around them,
but never on,
because the one who lives there does not mind opening them.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
A small island juts out from a lake
and an even smaller figure jumps,
only to clamber back up the rocks and leap once more.
The one who lives there seeks the flipping stomach that comes with flight.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
Mice skitter to and fro,
but silly things they are
they do not need to keep to corners and shadowy holes,
for the one who lives there walks with gentle feet,
and does not harm them.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
Jellyfish, like pale blue kites of silkworn thread,
float through the air,
bobbing along unseen currents overhead.
Their feathery tails trail along,
but the one who lives there simply ducks.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
A man’s wedding ring, without pair,
thick dull gold, sits in a music box,
and does collect dust.
The one who lives there used to wear it on a chain,
as a reminder,
as a noose,
but no more.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things.
Mirrors paper the walls,
bouncing caught images off each other like tennis balls,
seeming to forget where doorways are.
But the one who lives there lets the mirrors catch them,
and does not look away.
In the House of the Vanquished lie many things,
more each day,
and the one who lives there moves through,
laughing.