Seventh Street
Is awkward stale cavities of words that
Once brought crowds and lights and applause, baby
But now sit sullen, all black running mascara in fetal position
Torn fishnets in corner of over-used poetic order
Coming to the end of a 15 minute reality
Towards yesterday
They say moments are preserved here between ledger line and significance
But these moments feel exploited and worked beyond their contract
Black mascara running down cheeks


But creativity in not easy to fit between heavy eyelids and cappuccinos

And this poem brings crowds and lights and applause, baby
Except for torn holes in fishnets fetal position baptized by liquid melancholy
But Everything is fine, right?
Wipe the tears, honey
No one likes to hear old lines

Anything to conceal how callused we have become.

Time for another reading


Arianna Kandell is a poet, Youth Speaks performer, and student at Berkeley High