Two students snatched the J.H.H. Prize for the 2010 academic year: Sara Goss (for Oranges) and Jacquelyn Valencia (for Mother, Mother).
The J.H.H. Harrison Hopkins Prize is a contest judged by the members of the English faculty. Endowed by classmates and friends of the late Joanne Hopkins of the Class of 1957, this prize is given for the finest piece of imaginative literature in fiction, poetry, drama, or creative non-fiction produced during the academic year.
"Oranges"
Sara Goss
I begrudgingly ate an orange today
it was disgusting
I hate oranges
I hate the texture
that thin membrane
like an organic condom
holding the fluid in
as my teeth tore through each
segment's sack
I felt the sickening pop
and the vile liquid seed
filled my mouth
it was disgusting
I hate oranges
I thankfully swallowed its juices
and felt violated
as the sweet nectar slid down my throat
"Mother, Mother"
by Jacquelyn Valencia
The snow falls,
like frozen embers blanketing the ground
and warming the soul—
preparing for a new life.
Though impossible!
you’ve been planning before now—
ready for years, months, and days:
and within minutes, I will be here,
so very soon within this month of
January.
And like the cloth
soon to swaddle my naked skin
you’ve kept me warm—
Oh, so warm!—
for nine months now.
But I must escape now,
through the channel, which
brought me into being: and I
imagine you crying just a little.
And like the birds,
which soared up to the morning sky
chirping to their loved ones,
I, too, howled a bit, using all octaves
of fresh existence; and with each breath—
gasps of air in-between—I whispered,
“Thank you for this present.”
Though I was out and we were two
as we have been since that January day,
we will always be one, with my head resting
on your left shoulder.
………………………….
The leaves fall,
like the frozen embers that blanketed the ground
and warmed the soul
on the same day that I was born.
Though impossible!
I am ready, and after thirteen hours,
she will be here, here in my arms
within this month of
September.
And, like the cloth you
swaddled my naked skin
I, too, will swathe hers,
keeping her warm—
Oh, so warm!—
as I have for nine months now.
And you, by my side
and I, supine on hospital floors,
cry just a little.
And thankful for
our life together thus far,
we invite another into our world
to experience the breeze which
strokes our cheeks on days of
summer, and spring, and even autumn.
We invite another into our world
to encounter the joy of life’s tears,
because that is what they are,
the oceans, and streams,
pools and ponds.
And together,
we will cry just a little.
But she must escape now,
through the channel which brought
her into being, and I recall us crying
just a little. And within moments,
We were three.