DigitalCommons@C.O.D.

Byrd, Elena

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 2 Spring 2023 Article 30 
Spring 5-1-2023 
Off the Coast of Eden 
Elena Byrd 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Byrd, Elena (2023) "Off the Coast of Eden," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 2, Article 30. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss2/30 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
1
Byrd: Off the Coast of Eden
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


English

Off the Coast of Eden

Waters, Jim

Hippie House

Garcia, Victoria

The Puppeteer

Oles, Zofia

Vice Versa

Rich, Karlynn

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 13 
Fall 12-1-2023 
Spring Fashion 
Karlynn Rich 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Rich, Karlynn (2023) "Spring Fashion," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 13. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/13 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
I couldn’t remember the last time I got a haircut but I 
knew it hadn’t ever been like this. The salon was in a strip mall, 
in between a bakery and a bar and across from a gas sta-
tion, so the inside smelled of coffee and beer except when the 
door opened and the burning smell of gasoline wormed its way 
inside. Gentle guitar strums and rowdy drunken cries of the 
neighbors were just barely audible over the radio playing in 
the corner. 
The hairdresser wrapped the cape around me and 
snapped the closures together.
“So what are we doing with your hair today, honey?” 
she asked.
I stare back at my reflection. It’s hard to know where to 
look. I can’t stare at her because that might make her uncom-
fortable and she might get nervous and accidentally cut the top 
of my ear off. Or maybe staring will make her angry and she’ll 
want to fight me and I’m not much of a fighter so I’d lose imme-
diately and then she’ll purposely cut the top of my ear off. So 
I can’t look at her because one way or another she will cut the 
top of my ear off.
But I can’t look down. That might mess up the haircut and 
then I’ll have to walk around with an uneven haircut–probably 
for the rest of my life–and then people will point and laugh at 
me and I won’t ever be able to leave the house again. Which 
also means I can’t look up, or left, or right. So if I don’t look 
straight ahead at all times then my hair will be ruined forever.
An ad came over the radio, and I quickly realized that 
I hadn’t answered the hairdresser’s question. If my dad were 
here, he’d scold me.
“Answer the damn question. It’s not that hard,” he’d say. 
Then he’d go back to playing solitaire on his phone. He wouldn’t 
even look up, he’d just say it. Maybe he’d forget that he drove 
The Haircut _Bee Bishop
Spring Fashion, Color Photograph _Karlynn Rich  
 
 
 
 
 
Designer _ Rahaf Dam
ra 
1312
1
Rich: Spring Fashion
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


Spring Fashion

Barnes, Devona

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 31 
Fall 12-1-2023 
Still Motion 
Devona Barnes 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Barnes, Devona (2023) "Still Motion," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 31. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/31 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
I grew
 up very quick,
knew
 w
ho I w
as at an early age.
So I put m
y personality on like a costum
e,
I am
 an actress and the w
orld is m
y stage.
I paint m
y body like a canvas,
poke needles into m
y skin.
N
o need to w
onder w
ho I am
,
m
y deposition is built in.
G
od forbid you think I’m
 boring,
I’ll perform
 just for you.
Put on that m
ask I call m
y identity,
it’s m
y big acting debut.
W
ithout this im
age w
ho am
 I?
I’d be naked, vulnerable, lost.
I’d do it all for you to like m
e,
I’d do it all, but at w
hat cost?
Self _Christina Savaglio
Blossom
ing, Collage 
_Barbara Garrison
St
ill
 M
ot
io
n,
 C
olo
r P
ho
tog
ra
ph
y
 
 
_D
ev
on
a 
Ba
rn
es
3130
1
Barnes: Still Motion
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


Still Motion

Garrison, Barbara

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 33 
Fall 12-1-2023 
Blossoming 
Barbara Garrison 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Garrison, Barbara (2023) "Blossoming," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 33. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/33 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
I grew
 up very quick,
knew
 w
ho I w
as at an early age.
So I put m
y personality on like a costum
e,
I am
 an actress and the w
orld is m
y stage.
I paint m
y body like a canvas,
poke needles into m
y skin.
N
o need to w
onder w
ho I am
,
m
y deposition is built in.
G
od forbid you think I’m
 boring,
I’ll perform
 just for you.
Put on that m
ask I call m
y identity,
it’s m
y big acting debut.
W
ithout this im
age w
ho am
 I?
I’d be naked, vulnerable, lost.
I’d do it all for you to like m
e,
I’d do it all, but at w
hat cost?
Self _Christina Savaglio
Blossom
ing, Collage 
_Barbara Garrison
St
ill
 M
ot
io
n,
 C
olo
r P
ho
tog
ra
ph
y
 
 
_D
ev
on
a 
Ba
rn
es
3130
1
Garrison: Blossoming
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


Blossoming

Cianciosi, Christine

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 53 
Fall 12-1-2023 
Unknown 
Christine Cianciosi 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Cianciosi, Christine (2023) "Unknown," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 53. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/53 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Unknown, Digital Artwork
_Christine Cianciosi
W
yom
ing Night, Photography 
_Jam
es Bronco Em
m
enegger
I need Totem, Jewelry
_Matt Hanson
Tempting Lagoon Ring, 
Jewelry _Karlette Murray
5554
1
Cianciosi: Unknown
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


Unknown

Fortier, Mardelle

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 60 
Fall 12-1-2023 
The Station 
Mardelle Fortier 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Fortier, Mardelle (2023) "The Station," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 60. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/60 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Four. The floor. It’s cold. The bracelet I’m wearing. My sleeves, I’m pulling on them. My 
phone in my pocket.
Three. The vent, it’s too loud. My breathing, it’s also too loud. And everyone’s voices 
coming through the vent. 
Two. A candle I had on last night and the detergent lingering on my clothes. 
One. The coffee I drank this morning.
I take a deep breath but it doesn’t work the first time. So I count. And then I try again. 
In for four. Hold. Out for four. Hold again. I do that over and over until it’s the only 
thing I can think about.
 Very good. Now give me an intelligence check.
The room changes around you once more. It was never empty or bare to begin with. 
You were just thinking a little too much is all. Everything overwhelmed you and there’s 
absolutely nothing wrong with that. 
As you breathe in you feel that sinking feeling start to fade. The air you take in fills 
the pit until it disappears almost completely. It’s still there but you can manage it a 
little better now. Your brain catches up with your body on every exhale. Your hands 
move to feel the way you breathe and, with each rise and fall, the rest of your mus-
cles relax themselves.
Time passes and you keep counting in fours. When your vision clears and you can 
perceive everything again, you find the space around you empty. It’s a comfortable 
kind of empty this time, though, with no cacophony of sounds or the haze clouding 
your surroundings.
You know this place and know that it’s safe. All those monsters fighting you inside your 
head are gone for now. You’re safe.
 We exit combat.
 for my Sister*
My family often departed from Truth.
In gray-blue moon, the train would approach
that station. No one wanted to linger.
We spent our lives in moving cars.
Frozen in snowy North, sunny fields beckoned.
We traveled to Disney World.
Next, the train stopped at the depot of Truth.
In darkness, no one wished to get out.
Perhaps, a body would be found inside.
Through the lonely whistle of starlit sojourns
no one spoke of Truth. Yet it stayed
on the line, a shadow in collective memory.
      *
Here it comes. We close our eyes.
Rumors float in mist, swirling around IT.
What will be found inside?
*Mardene Eide, now deceased 
Whatever it meant—
“A kiss to bring the evening home.”
We pulled apart.
All along the block
Trees tossed new buds 
Skyward—
Sun-sliced/wind-mussed/burnt out/gone.
And take also those lilies of the parkway,
Sharp white/petal-peeled/stem-bent/slick.
After the rain, 
we set our bluestem boat to swirl,
that shabby vessel of intention,
tied and flattened and gutter-bound
and I said: “I know well
the grass blades that you mention.”
Plus this:
the day’s heat, pulled taut, broke.
Plus this:
dim rattle of thunder, moving off, 
saying: 
You’re next. You. 
Plus this:
the sky, a dirty canvas
the sky, cracking a little
the sky, well—
The Station _Mardelle Fortier
Dh
ak
a 
 B
an
gl
ad
es
h 
- N
ai
l f
ac
to
ry
, 
Ph
ot
og
ra
ph
 _
Ke
ith
 Y
ea
rm
an
After Sexton, Stafford, Olson _Tom Hill
6160
1
Fortier: The Station
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


The Station

Sana, Adam

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 46 
Number 1 Fall 2023 Article 65 
Fall 12-1-2023 
Unlucky Child 
Adam Sana 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Sana, Adam (2023) "Unlucky Child," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 46: No. 1, Article 65. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol46/iss1/65 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
From under my skin
those intrusive thoughts fester,
tentacles gnawing on my arteries,
blood, the source of power.
Darker, deadlier
those envious eyes, alluding,
my mouth drinking from 
the cup of tiresome tragedies.
There is a reluctant burden,
behind every delicate beauty,
behind every smiling mask.
Eardrums bursting from the shriek-
ing,
torture of my beloved angels, 
sickening.
The bells tolling, for I cannot hear 
you,
my love blinded by my somber 
thoughts
with tape entombing me to the 
table,
weary, as my shriveled dark mind 
is lost.
Eating further and further in
where my lungs have dried up.
So tired, my heart beating slowly
pausing only for the important moments.
Lampshades too bright for my dusty new 
eyes
the light so fond when praised by the 
darkness.
Little cold stars shimmer into the night,
dangling above my hanging head they 
sleep.
A shadow looming over the wooden 
surface,
casting a deadly spell, a binding curse 
over me.
Living in a lie, a miniscule world,
while feeling emotions so immense,
while mourning inside this house of 
horrors.
With fingernails so utterly long
they curl around my appendages,
so encapsulating, a keratin prison
unbreakable, unable to live freely.
With luminous eyes no longer dusty,
those scissors become so fearsome
when they trim my paper-thin figure
leaving holes where my sight used to be.
Paper Fingernails Imprisoning My Body _Adam Sana untitled, Acrylic On Canvas _Aidan Meade
How long is the process of regression?
Crawling, you cry to be heard,
but from my perception of utter discretion,
lying, you’re the killer of the word.
Searching, your crying to be cured
with not a whisper to be found,
eyes, watery teardrops only blurred
such somber succulence to be crowned.
Amongst these destinies you have drowned,
through the delicacy of the hypnotic door
mundane melodies camping under the ground
that escape lingers without a soul’s core.
With luckier fingertips to win the war
golden statues bow to you with a question,
every corpse becomes dust across the floor.
How long is the process of regression?
Unlucky Child _Adam Sana
6362
1
Sana: Unlucky Child
Published by DigitalCommons@COD, 2023


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