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First Prize went toÌýKatherine Connell:

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Damn that hipster barista: nose-ring, curls—
who brushed your sweater and said you were cute.
She likely has a trendy name like Earl,
Masters in Gender Studies, cowboy boots.
You try to explain, she wasn’t a flirt,
just an acquaintance from ‘round the North End.
I order my coffee, voice arctic, curt:
I am your lover, I am not your friend!

Your winter face, cheeks plush cinnamon hearts,
foam from your single latte on your lip,
in morning my curved palms, fingers apart
like antlers creep up to gently cup it.

After we sit, I can no longer sneer:
Coming to Java Blend was my idea.

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Second Prize went toÌýJacob Sandler:

Monday Morning, 7:45

I rise as eastern sky begins to bloom,
and shadows fall out of the lonely dark,
once fallen, stretch themselves across the room,
each object laying down to earth its mark.
This morning as a silent, solemn plea,
I slip into your room with grey-lit dawn,
awash amidst a down and cotton sea
of dreams you lie, curved like a spoon or swan,
and silent in the presence of such grace,
I brush a strand of hair behind your ear,
press my lips to the warm, familiar place,
and breathe you in, before departing here.
Then, your hair a flower, your body warm,
I leave you softly, sleeping like a storm.

Third Prize went toÌýKatie MacDonald:

Ages Apart

The moon thought she’d write an ode to the sun,
but spent the night figuring out the start.
She heard of its light and its compassion,
even though they remained ages apart.
The stars searching for secrets saw the moon,
who suffered and sought out a god of love.
Most occupied, but one arriving soon.
Cupid came quickly to give moon a shove.
He told her he would help her find romance,
and began to produce his big arrow.
Cupid had but one moment, once chance,
as her window approaching was narrow.
Sun and moon meet but during an eclipse.
Love but one time to protrude from their lips.

Congratulations to all of our winners!