©2019 by Canvas Literary Journal

Published by Cosmographia Books

Background art “Camouflage” by Hyung Jin Lee

Canvas logo by Ali Wrona


mathilda barr

Autumn 2019

she waits.
afternoon forgets to breathe
cul de sac decay, sun stinks up the sky
the putrid silence shoved down her throat meant to go down like

water only it’s
orange cream popsicle tears dripping puddles on the porch
the world is asphalt and stucco
she can’t remember what they told her to say it's all static
driving down the freeway the radio louder and louder its thunder

in her ears she can’t look she can’t speak all that exists is her and

light and speed and sound and everything is alive and then



if she drives fast enough maybe it will all melt
eighty degrees plastered smiles melt with the summer heat

eighty-five sticky august dreams slide down to the pavement

ninety family dinner smashed china on the living room floor gasoline tears
ninety-five bitter lies melt until truth is just exposed flesh she

lights a match
one hundred
everything that exists is her and light and speed and sound and

everything is alive and she can’t feel anything except the knowing,

the craving the hating august is burning

their perfect concrete jungle

suburbia is ablaze

Mathilda Barr is a junior at Eagle Rock High School in Los Angeles, California. She has a deep-rooted passion for the outdoors, and a spark for travel. Her recent destinations have included treks across India, Mongolia, Santa Cruz Island, and more. She hopes to retain her love for nature, world culture, and exploration all throughout a life of adventure.