The Perfect Breakfast

Watermelon Seeds

Alice Gao ‘28

This drawing was part of the Street Painting Festival piece I participated in, where my friends drew a famous meme of Patrick Star eating a breakfast plate drawn by me. The process was very long, hot, and tiring, but, in the end, it was so worth it. Every stroke in the croissant, and every shadow in the avocado was a challenge, but after 10 hours under the harsh Florida sun, we pulled through and created a beautiful piece for hungry guests at the festival.

You look as if you’ve swallowed a lemon whole.

The rind will zest itself into your lungs

until you smell of my perfume. 

The juice will mix with the acid of your stomach,

and when you shove fingers down your throat,

you won’t be able to tell what comes out.

You got a seedless watermelon, but the false advertising of life

has caused you to swallow those seeds.

They will grow within the marrow of your bones, and the vines will grow

up your spine. The weight will become too heavy,

and the dirt floor will become your home.

You will force the mold onto your tongue.

The skin on your bones will rot upon itself 

until you are only the vines of your watermelon.

The dents are sold for less, only quarters and dimes

fill your thrifted purse.

Scattered with the objects like a grandma. 

you will count your nickels to get your hands on

a soft apple. your fingertips will leave marks

in the skin. The insides are already brown,

but the nectar will coat your throat. 

You will get your fruits from the ugly store.

Old produce that isn’t pretty enough for the shelves.

Your dirty picked at hands will shake as they grab

the 50 cent berries.

Sometimes, when you work your shifts at the

Waffle House and people tip you a little extra, 

you’ll treat yourself to a small, scratched watermelon.

the skin is turning black and blue instead of the pretty

greens. They will reflect your pretty, green eyes,

and the skin that reeks of the black and blue coloring.

It costs a dollar 25 to get a forgotten, ugly rotten 

watermelon.

You only see 3 quarters— a series of nickels and dimes. 

Your shaky, veiny, bony hands will scrounge around

for anything.

Your bitten fingernails will grip onto something small.

Now, in the business of silver coins sits

a watermelon seed. 

BellaDonna Peterson ‘28

This is a piece that isn’t a personal piece but has themes that many people, including myself, deal with. It talks about the struggle of money and underlying themes of past or even current addiction. I wrote this piece late at night, and it was one of those poems that reminded me to look for the little things in life.