Founded in the fall of 1991, Laurel Moon is Brandeis' oldest, national literary publication. Each issue we publish features original work from undergraduate students.
She marks times in steps, in just-washed dishes
Wonders how far she could make it if she left now
But she stays to make sustenance of lethargy
Four walls, no holes, but no way out
Violence walks the streets unarmed now
Unharmed, no reason to be afraid
Since disbelief freed him from prison
With bars set so low, he escaped
“This is love” exclaim the people
Admiring her untouched skin
She grows a family, raises children
Everybody praises him
Her love is nothing short of holy
Nothing bargained in return
They praise him for the warmth he gives her
He stands to watch her forests burn
War adores her, always watches her
She just wants to be left alone
They blame her for keeping him alive
When she feeds him each time he comes home
They painted her silence in dead ends and deep blues
Claimed nothing is better than the way that she lives
Small minds and intentions still call her beautiful
Hunger and violence are all that they give
Like artwork behind bars, enslaved in museums
Helen of Troy lives on a cul-de-sac
Where dull kitchen knives hold empty promises
It could be worse, but she’s already thought of that
Her name in cement, he took all of her youth
Traded it for cigarettes and weed
She loves like a rainstorm over unchanging desert
Doesn’t miss what she’s never received