Isabella Ponce (16)
Inframundo
the lit lane is a path for the lost.
yellow orbs of suspended light gleam above the pavement’s porous skin—
the scant scent of summer mists still lingers in the air.
there’s the texture of frozen lamp poles skimming under padded fingertips,
and, echoing from across the suburban hills, a siren wails.
the remnants of fruity cocktail wisps
see the pointed tops of houses, angled towards the night sky, dense with stars.
jazz music floating out of cracked two-story windows has an electric piquancy.
it reminds of Clementine, mouth wide open, laughing in a dingy room at the Stardust Motel.
but, at the same time, she wasn’t really there—nobody was.
the boulevard of the beloved glimmers with the sun’s cinders,
kaleidoscope, sun-kissed fragments of pure light
stimulate steps to become quicker, forced and stringent.
loneliness is a virtue, one that they will admire.
the cool concrete of insincerities warms under rubber tire soles.
high above, lackluster galaxies litter the blazing evening dome,
making all mortals, both the lost and the beloved, seal their lips with finality.
the belle, a traveler in the labyrinth of life, passes through,
one who will reach the twisted town boundary by the rosy-hued dawn.
the knotted avenue loops over-and-under itself a million times,
proving the streets are meant to be destroyed.
la soledad es una virtud, una que admirarán.
darkened alleys whisper untold secrets to the pilgrims stumbling by, one after the other.
the lane of the lost is no place for those with bursting hearts—
beating, alive and well.
Isabella Ponce (16) is a young writer from Southern California who is currently attending California School of the Arts—San Gabriel Valley, in which she is enrolled in the Creative Writing program. She has previously been published in her school’s literary magazine, Sugar Pine, where she is also part of the founding staff. She has won awards for her writing before in the ACT-SO program.
Inframundo
the lit lane is a path for the lost.
yellow orbs of suspended light gleam above the pavement’s porous skin—
the scant scent of summer mists still lingers in the air.
there’s the texture of frozen lamp poles skimming under padded fingertips,
and, echoing from across the suburban hills, a siren wails.
the remnants of fruity cocktail wisps
see the pointed tops of houses, angled towards the night sky, dense with stars.
jazz music floating out of cracked two-story windows has an electric piquancy.
it reminds of Clementine, mouth wide open, laughing in a dingy room at the Stardust Motel.
but, at the same time, she wasn’t really there—nobody was.
the boulevard of the beloved glimmers with the sun’s cinders,
kaleidoscope, sun-kissed fragments of pure light
stimulate steps to become quicker, forced and stringent.
loneliness is a virtue, one that they will admire.
the cool concrete of insincerities warms under rubber tire soles.
high above, lackluster galaxies litter the blazing evening dome,
making all mortals, both the lost and the beloved, seal their lips with finality.
the belle, a traveler in the labyrinth of life, passes through,
one who will reach the twisted town boundary by the rosy-hued dawn.
the knotted avenue loops over-and-under itself a million times,
proving the streets are meant to be destroyed.
la soledad es una virtud, una que admirarán.
darkened alleys whisper untold secrets to the pilgrims stumbling by, one after the other.
the lane of the lost is no place for those with bursting hearts—
beating, alive and well.
Isabella Ponce (16) is a young writer from Southern California who is currently attending California School of the Arts—San Gabriel Valley, in which she is enrolled in the Creative Writing program. She has previously been published in her school’s literary magazine, Sugar Pine, where she is also part of the founding staff. She has won awards for her writing before in the ACT-SO program.