NH2Cl: Editor's Prize Runner-up Poetry - Aaron Cheng '28

the swimming pool drinks the twilight sky

when sun’s fire yields to fireflies,

and late summer smog chooses

to rest its head on his shoulders,

its breath the smell of chloromine.

when he yawns you can see his ribs

hold up his flesh like the water did:

he were reed stalks drunken in the open breeze when

his bare legs swung over the concrete rim and he are

white sails shivering against his spine

as he floats and watches the older boys dive,

their bodies soar overhead

like cigarettes falling in an ashtray

, still burning,

was the skeleton of waxen wings

were murmurings of fireflies