Welcome to Labrys, your student-run art and literature collective of Smith College.

come morning, you arise from our too-small
bed where we curl like apostrophes nightly. i squint
at the smear that is you combing your hair. i fall
for you over and deeper each morning, every day a hint
more hardened than when we met. you, stuffed full
of coffee, smoothen the creases of me. i have forgotten
who i was before smitten. the dependable image i pull
on: we two hunched over lasagna in the kitchen –
you squaring the pasta neatly, like you approach my fears.
in my mind, every part of this house grazes your skin.
and i am reliving a summer spent with you two years
from now, our courtship and fights all already filled in
by my imagination, your presence a one-by- one silk square
spun in a trance, a conversation plucked from thin air.