BU Literary Society Launches Inaugural Issue

in Featured, General News
February 10th, 2014

Winter 2013 Cover - FinalBoston University Literary Society published the inaugural issue of its new journal, Coup d’Etat this month–you can see it here.

The staff of Coup d’Etat, which consists entirely of Boston University undergraduate students, accepts submissions nationally and is committed to fostering literary talent that is unusual, unexpected, and exceptional.

They are currently soliciting submissions for their Summer 2014 issue. If you’re interested, you can submit your work or join the staff.

by Nina Misra

I saw you fall down the stairs into that messy, sweet- smelling pit—
its murky clouds caressing and covering your shivering skin,
until your shape was muddled.
I couldn’t recognize your voice when you said it reminded you of the sea,
how it was always there, rocking you to sleep even when you thought your fiery
thoughts would never let you rest.

But you never actually slept.

And even though those clouds always followed you, at least they kept you from
getting sunburned,
and they would talk to you even when you couldn’t talk to yourself.
When your veins screamed and mocked you, you plucked at them like violin strings,
but they were off-key so you just pulled, pulled, pulled them out.

I watched it peel you away like the bark of a birch tree.
I thought I had it fooled,
but I really, I was the fool—convinced I was so unlike you.

But really, we’re the same.

Listen, you said.
It’s easy.
So I started closing my eyes every time I walked down the stairs.

Opm by Drew McLoon

the smoky empire of Eternity
settles over the cherry rooftops
of a silent suburban sprawl.

underground angels screamPOP
skidding across wetshiny pavements
on sleek chrome Indian cats and
(lie down)

sighs echo around the murderous
marshmallow universe skies
before returning to the lungs of a thousand
defenseless souls stitched together by seems.
strangers play headboard with each other and
a poppy-seed generation dreams.

candles flicker,
fueling sweet and hot-sweat cures
as the neverness of Morning rears its charcoal head and cries out against toxic dawn—
(ethereal postmidnight limbo endures)—
as i stretch out across
steel-wool night and yawn,
wondering quietly to myself
what an oasis is to an ocean,
whether a boat feels the same
no matter what water its on.

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