Archives
A collection of The Loom 's online editions throughout the years, starting with our first-ever online publication in 2017. We publish biannually: our winter editions have specific themes that were voted upon by our staff, and our spring edition features a plethora of topics.
Spring 2022
"And yet, could it be so perfect? Are we
two souls entwined as one, destined to love before birth,
our fate sealed by the omniscient heavens,
prescribing us to a life of perfect idleness, eternal wealth and grace,
characterized by the clink of a cocktail class, the ease of our eloquence,
the luxurious silk of your dress, the unmarred leather of my shoes—"
—Unabashed Faultlessness by Ella Xue '23
Art by Nessa Tang '24
"it's life in an instant
it’s the universe coalesced into a single point
it's happiness
it's humanity
it's art.
live for this, because what else could compare?"
—Signs of Life by Nandini Ramanathan '23
Art by Ella Xue '23
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—Untitled by Olivia Zoga '21
Art by Sofia Mansilla '23
"take your organs back.
do something forbidden.
touch the shell walling in each fragile pump of your heart
and let your fingers press against its surface,
hard and steady.
hold them there until you can feel a crack.
fear the sound, the sensation
of letting yourself get out of hand,
and then keep going."
'Isa looks at me.
“What’s wrong?”
She asks.
“A lot,” I say.
A lot, is wrong.
But Isa doesn’t care
About that.
She presses her hand
Against the plexiglass
As if there is
Something
Stronger than division
And whispers to me
With a twinkle in her eye,
“What’s right?”'
—The Thing About Blueberries by Eva Evans '21
Art by Aidan Cooper '22
"the world ended here
when we missed the turn the first time
and the splintered gate, the dark road
under the sky, hazy
the cicadas screaming in the trees as we heard
the drifting smoke and voices
screen door ajar, letting them in,
the mosquitoes, I mean, and everyone..."
—house party on a summer night by Eleanor Peters '20
Art by Joy Liu '21
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"She joined the stars that day; her heart gave out.
My first thought when I learned the news: I wish I had forced more sweets on her only a few hours ago.
They held a service for her; they offered food and refreshments after. I left, walked as far enough away as I knew I could return from, and screamed.
I couldn’t talk for three days after the funeral."
***
Every time I see the moon I think of her mother and how none of the other moms can look her in the eye come Mother's Day. And every night I close my eyes so tight it hurts until I can gather my own stars behind my eyelids. I name them."
—Asterism by Isabel Ruppel '21
Art by Alejandro Rincón '21
"—what I am afraid of is reality bruising into my skin, my brain, and my innocence, like claws sinking into delicate flesh.
What have I done? I have awakened the demon inside. I am no longer the canvas but the instrument that she will use for inflicting pain upon the corrupt minds of those responsible for sinful deeds.
I close my eyes, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing.
There’s only my darkness, my stranger."
—My Darkness, My Stranger by Jia Yi (Jenny) Pan '22
Art by Ashley Chung '19
"poets don’t write from the heart poets write
from the scars on their fingertips
they write from the swing of their loose hips
poets do not write from their heart.
they write from the blood seared open skin in the dark
they write from an old home movie during their favorite part
poets write with anything but their hearts."
—Untitled, Alex Gray '19
Art by Christina Stone '20