Chambers Below

McKenzie Murphy ‘26

I was at the top of a parking garage with my best friend. I found this small hole in the pavement below me that allowed me to look beneath us, and I got inspired.

Insomnia

Our initials are carved

into rotting wood exposed

to humid air and sand, a

bench by the sea where

salted inhales drown

in ebb and flow. I taste 

the beach when I think

of you, sleepless nights

cured by cool ocean breezes

and rotting wood molded to 

my fingertips. It’s soft, 

squishing under the weight

of my body, of our knife

carving into fibrous skin

and bark, twisting into

my heart, caught on 

iron screws, on bone.

When you said goodbye

and water seeped into 

the wound and rot grew

in the gash. our initials

on the bench were 

picked at, frayed, letters

unwritten and 

unreadable, sweating 

a humid-earth scent. 

but I feel the smooth

red army knife in my 

pocket, warm from 

body heat and wool, 

and the letters are vivid, 

carved into my skin, 

thumb pricked in my pocket, 

eyes and flesh scarlet as

sleep comes,

resting on rotten wood.

Tatum White ‘25

I wrote the inspiration for this piece, a little chunk of prose-poetry, a couple of years ago while listening to a song named Insomnia. It initially was just meant to embody the overall vibe and feelings that I got from the song. Later, when I came back to that unpolished piece of writing, I wanted to breathe new life into it and develop it into a poem that was more in line with my current style of writing.