Yehudit Ben-Zvi Heller

Otter Cove

I took three pebbles from there:

a cobblestone from the historic streets, 

a small rock from a construction site,

and a piece of sand laying by the Merrimack

to see what the future holds. 

Gerry LaFemina

Caged Bird Society

All the exams, the research papers, the online 

homework assignments, we’ve placed them each 

in their own little cage, set them on desks and tables

throughout the dorm for their omnipresent 

company. Some perch on laptops, head cocked.

Some peck at refrigerated cans begging to be cracked open & some scratch

at Spotify playlists ready to be enjoyed. We masochistically enjoy how

 they rustle their dark feathers at night.

Come morning you can only imagine, can’t you, 

the recollecting, dissonant dirges they sing.

Gerry LaFemina

Heroin Chic

Five small, white pebbles pushed through a hole in a plywood 

door. Into my mouth they’re put and I journey back to 

headquarters… anticipation tingling in my veins. Friends gather on 

couches, holding plastic water bottles and pipes. I see this 

everyday, ghostly men with sallow faces and women missing 

teeth. These are my friends. Lighters are taken from 

pockets and passed around, warming the white pebbles laying on 

aluminum foil. Personalities quickly change and everything is light. 

This white pebble is the devil, but provides relief. I understand 

the joy.  I understand the risk. I understand the harm. Understand I need to.

       The first poem I chose was one that I’m sure every student writing three poems chose. Although Otter Cove is short, and many likely saw it as an easy outlet, I find short poems much more appealing than longer ones. The brief five lines keep my attention but pack a punch with content. In the poem, the author takes three stones that embody the cove he was in- one from the water, one from the sun, and one that represents all of the live that is growing there. To relate this to Lowell, I chose three stones that represent Lowell in the past, present, and future. One stone is a cobblestone from Lowell’s historic past filled with mill workers and Cambodian culture. One stone is a rock from a current construction site; Lowell is in the midst of a revolution, the city is changing and advancing and construction sites are a frequent site around the city. The last stone is a grain of sand from the Merrimack, the heart of Lowell. Given the right circumstances, a grain of sand can become a pebble. I chose to make a grain of sand from beside the Merrimack my third memento because it represents the hopeful question mark that is Lowell’s future. The incredible changes that have happened are nowhere near their end, so the grain of sand represents the bright future of the city.
       The second poem I chose was Caged Bird Society. What I took out of this poem was a man who takes his worries and griefs and sets them aside, ignoring them until he is reminded of them in the night. When he wakes in the morning, those caged worries and griefs are still their, perched on their swings singing “dissonant dirges” to him. Personally, I felt I could relate this to the college experience. Procrastination is filthy habit that nearly every university student is guilty of. Online assignments, studying for exams, and long term projects (like this one) are often pushed aside and ignored until the last minute, so students can instead go to hockey games, or to a movie, or hang out with friends in the dorm next door. We take those school burdens and put them in their own bird cages, where they sit on our laptops as we scroll through Facebook feeds and on our stereos as we listen to the newest country songs with our friends. These burdens are pushed aside for fun, but when it’s time to lay our heads down at night after a day of nonsense with friends, they ruffle their dark feathers and we’re reminded of our negligence. When we wake up in the morning, we’re reminded of our procrastination, and a brief feeling of guilt sets in. The thought of staying in to finish that paper is contemplated as we put on our shoes, and that thought is disregarded as we hop into a full car, en route to whatever adventure we’re distracting ourselves with. Our schoolwork is comparable to the man’s griefs and imagined worst things, both pushed aside but refusing to be ignored. 

       The final poem I chose was Heroin Chic, where Heroin addiction is addressed along with all the messiness that comes with it. Given recent assignments in class, I was inspired by Dicky Ward and The Fighter. Although Lowell hasn’t had a problem with crack cocaine in a while, drugs and addiction still play a part in our city’s tumultuous past, and sadly, a piece of our present.