A blackout poem made from a page of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Ornate borders on white paper are glued to the sides of the paper. In the center of the poem is a drawing of a woman drinking a glass of wine, also on white paper. In the bottom left corner is an old photograph of a woman holding a baby.

By Karen Shokobishi ’24

Old

ALWAYS old
—always priceless
Always free
tied at the hips with
strong native persons,
ironical,
at all times.
unnoticed,
I walk