issue one / serendipity
Saturday Noise
Isabella Lobo
I hear you, you know.
The voice quiet over orange juice fresh squeezed,
Too much pulp lingering on lips pursed,
Morose and dancing on the outskirts of sentences half-started,
Clinging to the edges of a weak smile.
Of course I know.
How your smile snuck through spaces
Between morning noise and motion,
Finding stillness in a laugh
And within coffee without sugar.
Bustelo, I think. Extra strong, I hope.
Love,
Your eyes–
Half-closed,
Burdened by some gorgeous weight,
Directed toward some world I’ll never know outside that window–
Find me again.
I know you see me, too.
The voice quiet over orange juice fresh squeezed,
Too much pulp lingering on lips pursed,
Morose and dancing on the outskirts of sentences half-started,
Clinging to the edges of a weak smile.
Of course I know.
How your smile snuck through spaces
Between morning noise and motion,
Finding stillness in a laugh
And within coffee without sugar.
Bustelo, I think. Extra strong, I hope.
Love,
Your eyes–
Half-closed,
Burdened by some gorgeous weight,
Directed toward some world I’ll never know outside that window–
Find me again.
I know you see me, too.
Isabella Lobo is a teenage artist and writer currently living in South Florida. Her artwork and writing has received awards at the national level through Scholastic Art and Writing and has been published in COUNTERCLOCK, the Harbor Review, and the Firefly Review, among others. She currently serves as a prose editor and staff writer for The Borderline, a youth led magazine.