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By Ivania Rivas

Oh, hear that crunch

That melancholic crunch.

As Eve bit,

We were.

Digested in a frenzy of acids and ashes.

Ashes and ashes

And ashes to

Dust. And dust

Compacted into blocks.

Buildings begotten by blocks,

Always approaching the

Absolute acme,

Petitioning past perfection.

Oh, hear that crunch

That crushing crunch?

Beneath our feet,

We were.

The cusp of a cracked creation crumbling.

Crumbling and crumbling

—The crumbling and

Rattling knees

Of alpinists with canes.

Whom avarice drove to Everest;

Whom hubris humored with incompetence;

Whose fickle functions yielded sinusoidal grief;

Who climbed and fell and fell and crawled.

Oh, hear that crunch

That autumnal crunch.

Beneath our feet,

The leaves are.

The foliaceous reflection of our calamitous collapse.

Ivania Rivas is a freshman from Houston, Texas. Her favorite book is Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis and she enjoys drawing and photography.