DigitalCommons@C.O.D.

Kuchar, Karen

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 18 
Fall 12-1-2022 
On the News 
Karen Kuchar 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Kuchar, Karen (2022) "On the News," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 18. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/18 
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. 
Renee Tran. 
It’s A Little Cold Here. 
Digital illustration
On the News
Karen Kuchar 
I saw babies today
Sick babies tethered to tubes,
held in mothers’ arms
I was reminded of  those days with Lily
when we watched our newborn grandchild
fight for her life while she slept
The babies I saw today
lay on a concrete floor
of  a basement make-shift bomb shelter
Exhausted mothers by their side
Tearful, they share their pain,
their fear, their lives upended
Their own personal crisis
now embedded in the destruction of  war,
testing the limits of  human endurance
Lily is 10 now, she doesn’t want to hear
about those painful weeks
we still hold in our hearts
I can only hope that someday
the same will be true 
for the babies in the bomb shelter
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Kuchar: On the News
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English

On the News

Cimera, Tricia Marcella

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 33 
Fall 12-1-2022 
Selkies, Shells 
Tricia Marcella Cimera 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Cimera, Tricia Marcella (2022) "Selkies, Shells," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 33. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/33 
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. 
Jim Waters. Egg Rock Lighthouse. Digital photograph
Selkies, Shells
Our bodies, Ourselves, Boston Women’s Health Book Collective 1970
Tricia Marcella Cimera
I wave to the selkies sunning
Themselves on ocean rocks
Smooth sleek grey
Their bodies now seal     
Now woman — their own
I pocket the empty shell
That I find on the beach       
Running my finger inside
Smooth grey space 
Inhabited by — no one
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Cimera: Selkies, Shells
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Selkies, Shells

Parenti, Kathryn

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 44 
Fall 12-1-2022 
When I Was Not Looking 
Kathryn Parenti 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Parenti, Kathryn (2022) "When I Was Not Looking," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 44. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/44 
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. 
Sandhill Cranes
Karen Kuchar
For the last few weeks,
the warbling 
 of  the sandhill cranes
  has caught my ear
 I scan the sky to see
their imperfect Vee
 stretched across the blue
  headed southeast
Sometimes stragglers
  form an addendum
A whooping crane
 tags along at the end of  the line
  white wings tinged with black
 she stands out in the gray flock
Easing her migration by mutual agreement
I have heard them before
 In other seasons
But not with this frequency
 Nor with this sense of  awe
I hear more whispers and trills,
 I spot the hawk perched in the tree
  As he scans the yard
  Watches the birdfeeder
I wander the yard
 Cut late fall bouquets
  Of  drying hydrangea blossoms
 And russet leaves.
I am slower,
 And slowed
  by wonder.
Kathryn Parenti. When I Was Not Looking. Mixed media
Bramble Bush
Tricia Marcella Cimera
My hair is a bramble bush
Filled with little birds
That fly away & come back:
They’re my sins that won’t 
Impale their wings on my 
Thorns no more…
35
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Parenti: When I Was Not Looking
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When I Was Not Looking

Hedlund, Kayla

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 50 
Fall 12-1-2022 
The Closeted Child, from the Lanna Series 
Kayla Hedlund 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Hedlund, Kayla (2022) "The Closeted Child, from the Lanna Series," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, 
Article 50. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/50 
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. 
Kayla Hedlund. The Closeted 
Child, from the Lanna Series 
(below). Digital Illustration
Kayla Hedlund. The Dysphoric 
Teenager, from the Lanna Series 
(at right).  Digital Illustration
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Hedlund: The Closeted Child, from the Lanna Series
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The Closeted Child, from the Lanna Series

Laffey, Mary

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 57 
Fall 12-1-2022 
Unfinished Symphony 
Mary Laffey 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Laffey, Mary (2022) "Unfinished Symphony," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 57. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/57 
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. 
Unfinished Symphony
Mary Laffey
You are a prism of  blue starlight.
You are the bloody path of  righteousness.
A range of  royal mountains
And a gun melted by confusion.
 
You are that Puritan woman who spoke in church,
An unattainable emerald goddess with a handful of  fire.
You are the alcoholic hymn of  every reservation,
An opioid swallowed daily.
 
You are a knee on a neck
A discordant orchestra
A cascade of  salt and mascara
An iridescent community garden.
 
You are the nails that left crevices on her arm
A blissful kiss in his Mexican hair,
A choir of  quiet curses
A barrage of  bullets in that gay bar.
 
You are two sides of  the same, wide canyon.
The sparking fingers of  a violinist on the gum-ridden   
     sidewalk
The constant screeching of  the television.
You are a great unfinished symphony–
 
And you must keep composing.
Linnea Sardina. Chelsea (at left). Digital photograph
45
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Laffey: Unfinished Symphony
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Unfinished Symphony

Smuksta, Kimberly

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 64 
Fall 12-1-2022 
White Orchid 
Kimberly Smuksta 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Smuksta, Kimberly (2022) "White Orchid," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 64. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/64 
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. 
Kimberly Smuksta. White Orchid. Digital photograph
1
Smuksta: White Orchid
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White Orchid

Gakhal, Serena

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 81 
Fall 12-1-2022 
Caller ID 
Serena Gakhal 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Gakhal, Serena (2022) "Caller ID," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 81. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/81 
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. 
Lauren Evans. Weight of  The World. Digital Illustration
Caller ID
Serena Gakhal
     I hear your soft manipulative voice. You don’t have to call for me to hear. 
You are loud and clear and engraved into everything that I do. You like to 
tell me what to wear, how to act, how to speak. You help me at times, but 
then, when you see me at my high, you decide to destroy me. You smirk 
and you laugh at how weak I am. You love to tell me distasteful things. You 
like to talk about others. You love to say I’m too fat, I’m too short, my skin 
is too dark, my teeth are too yellow, or I might die if  I don’t give in to you. 
I tell you I’m trying, but you tell me not enough.
     I’m stone when you are near. When you are away, I fill my eyes with 
different entertainment to forget you. 
     I blast my music so I can miss your call, but yet there you are. Don’t 
you have anything else you need to do? Anything else? Please, I beg of  you.
67
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Gakhal: Caller ID
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     Some days go by, and I don’t hear from you. You don’t call to whine 
about something I did wrong. But then when I think about how you didn’t 
call, I get nervous. Did I do something right, or did you forget about me? 
     Now I need to hear from you. I wish to hear, baby please call.
And then you do, you tell me I am nothing, and I relax in relief  because you 
didn’t forget about me.
     As much as I hate you and wish you died, you seem to be determined 
and the only one who will never leave my side. By the looks of  it, you will 
stay until I won’t let you.
     I do loathe you, don’t forget that. The hate spills out of  me like a bub-
bly cauldron. I can be happy, enjoying something, until I lay down, and 
the light turns on while you call. I try not to listen and pick up, but you 
enchant me. At first, you say you are proud of  me and then you say good-
night. But life cannot be easy. You sharpen that sweet delicate knife of  
yours and stab me. Pins and needles in my back with your words. I listen, 
and it’s always the same. You tell me that I will be nothing, that everyone 
hates me, that my voice is too high, and that I am terrible at everything. 
You sing how no one will want me and everyone will turn on me. You never 
fail to remind me that you are the only one there for me.
     They don’t want to be in your life, you continue, they only feel obligated. 
If  you disappear, they wouldn’t notice, come to me dear, I will take care 
of  you.
     What can I do? You seem to be everywhere. You inched your voice into 
everything I do. You are the constant nightmarish reminder of  everything 
I cannot be. Most of  me is tired. I just don’t want to pick up anymore. 
At times I ignore you, and you seem to go away until you don’t. You keep 
nagging until I give in.
     I want to forget. I want to try again. I want to be reborn. I want to feel 
those blue hospital lights on my face and get slapped, not by words, but to 
make sure I’m alive. There has to be something I can do to rewind time. Go 
back, I need to fix this, but I can’t. 
     And you illuminate with excitement as you let me know that I will never 
be able to. This isn’t love is it?
     But one thing you don’t seem to remember is how strong I am compared 
to you, maybe not right now, but soon enough. This constant war between 
us will end soon, and I will be crowned the victor. Do not underestimate 
me, you useless piece of  nothing. Go back to the dark void that you were 
conceived in.
     You, my hateful lover, will not go any further. You will not break me, 
even though you almost do. You try, I cry, but I overcome it. I haven’t said 
goodbye yet, but I will. 
     You tell me these things but fail to realize that we are two separate 
people.
I’m your host and nothing more. 
     You are not a call. You are not me. I will not break.
     You are only the noise inside my head.
68
2
The Prairie Light Review, Vol. 45, No. 1 [2022], Art. 81
https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/81


Caller ID

Karavolos, George

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 45 
Number 1 Fall 2022 Article 82 
Fall 12-1-2022 
You Write and Let Me Cry 
George Karavolos 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Karavolos, George (2022) "You Write and Let Me Cry," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 45: No. 1, Article 82. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol45/iss1/82 
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. 
You Write and Let Me Cry
George Karavolos
You write and let me cry—
 let me cry
just write down the reasons
so they don’t think the tears are unjustified
Write about closed windows
that remain unsightly
Write about the iron door 
that once swung open to receive 
good mornings
Write about the noble woman who left 
without seeing the good times knock 
on the door of  gratitude
Write about the noble man who 
built palaces with steadfast sacrifice 
for ignorant and envious heirs
Write about time lost, unlearned lessons
the full moons I ignored—
the moons that were hidden to me behind the clouds
Write about the memories of  good days 
that went unnoticed, lost to time and melancholy
You write, and let me cry
Nancy Heil
Philae Island
 Boatman, Egypt
Digital photograph
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Karavolos: You Write and Let Me Cry
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You Write and Let Me Cry

Fortier, Mardelle

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 44 
Number 2 Spring 2022 Article 10 
Spring 5-1-2022 
Paris Cafe Writing 
Mardelle Fortier 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Fortier, Mardelle (2022) "Paris Cafe Writing," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 44: No. 2, Article 10. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol44/iss2/10 
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. 
SO
LI
D
A
R
IT
Y
Paris Café Writing
Mardelle Fortier
 
Moon falls over a sidewalk café
and I write in a slow drip of words.
Espresso tries to shake synapses awake
as I scribble on a lonely page.
 
Two painters pontificate at the next table
while a poem leafs out in the dark.
In the lulls of silence I can almost hear
the faint music at my core.
 
Hunger drives me from deep inside;
have not eaten all day. I weep
for every artist, striving down solitary
streets of the heart.
Late Autumn Sunrise. Jack Kreger
8
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Fortier: Paris Cafe Writing
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Paris Cafe Writing

Markos, Karian

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 44 
Number 2 Spring 2022 Article 23 
Spring 5-1-2022 
The Mandarin's Dilemma 
Karian Markos 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Markos, Karian (2022) "The Mandarin's Dilemma," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 44: No. 2, Article 23. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol44/iss2/23 
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. 
The Mandarin’s Dilemma
Karian Markos
for the Mandarin to voluntarily shed its peel
to discard its protective layer
and sit on a plate exposed
it would have to accept that it may be devoured 
hungrily and unceremoniously
would it be too much for the Mandarin to hope 
that if it disrobes 
undoes its pithy corset 
revealing its segments 
they would one by one
pass through a pair of delicately parted lips
perhaps grazing them gently
be lain onto the most appreciative tongue
and swirled and savored until
the thin skin containing its hundreds of juice sacs
bursts open in a flood of ecstasy
why else but for its trepidation
would it attempt to preserve itself 
when the alternative 
is to rot
without having shared its gifts
A New Day, Betsy Cello
17
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Markos: The Mandarin's Dilemma
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