ART
BY RACHEL LIVINAL
LATE NIGHT MORNING LULLABY I am no perfect girl Born from the crosses of my father’s
Of two women
How to give harmony,
Who,
And how to receive it
Tucked in my dreams
Stitched heart, The wilts never became scars
Tonight, My mother and I,
I put on my headphones,
Through the test of melodic time
Slipped into the bliss,
When I was three years old,
And just before my eyelids flickered
My mother,
We would sing this album,
Into sleep,
Heard the shackles,
And our blood curdling pain-
And dreams
From the boundaries she built.
Would slip out of the car windows,
And that sweet,
Far too late
With our unshaken grief
Fluid, Peace
My screams-
Tonight,
Bloodcurdling as they were,
I laid in a man’s bed,
I sent the album to him,
Described the pain of being torn
Fully clothed,
I said
Little limb by little limb
Truly elated,
His words held me down,
Freely cognizant
This is the album I’d fall asleep to when I was little,
An eternal constraint
Of the love I had for the love
It was the only thing that soothed my
That was laying next to me
Troubled mind at such a young age,
My screams-
It’s been the only rock for me-
They would break into,
And I thought about,
The walls of our beige minivan
That peace
And like a habit,
A feeling
My mother would slip in the disc
I have only felt briefly-
Until I met you I know I’ve run from the peace
A moment paired with fleeting She’d let the guitar strings,
A peace, A harmony,
Strum and play
A peace I’d run for,
Until my screams became muffled to the beat,
But in the past,
She’d rub my foot
It was a dichotomy
Until my tears, Would dry by the sound’s waves
That consolidate rare men like you,
A short-lived unbroken family I’m old enough to realize, That albums like these,
I’m only 20,
Come once in a lifetime
I’ve sat in that backseat, As I grew older,
For 17 years
I sang to the melody
So you listen to the album, Tell me what feelings you find
Yearned to have my mother, In those moments,
Slip in that CD
For I feel it roll off your tongue,
It was
And with my troubled mind,
Into the air that I’d like to
Peace in the backseat,
There weren’t enough times she could play it
Endlessly
It was a soothing yet strong volume,
But I’ve learned now how to push repeat,
Let my tears dry
14
Nov Issue Rough 2.indd 14
10/31/22 2:56 PM
