Steven, a third-year English major, shares one of two recently published poems in Carroll’s Century Magazine.
Remember how, once, you’d caress
yourself in the depths of evening and hormones –
insatiable impulse demanded touch, such sinful flesh
concealed beneath blankets while you were alone;
where your hand found no inspiration in breasts –
fat, milky things – yet it was somehow reverent
of that tower, exploring it generously as if to attest
structural integrity, as if to declare it perfect
in its form – it kept your own standing tall
to imagine the architecture of others’ towers,
to simulate, stimulate those pressures on your walls
where you assumed happiness hid like treasure.
This is who and what you are, for better or for worse:
so remember now to touch, feel, know yourself first.