Lauren Claus

Shadow’s Entrance

I almost thought it was some remembrance,
That memory had latched onto your night
And kissed it clean. But a shadow’s entrance
Scurries away, and the doubt that will fight

Is all that remains of darkness’ dawn.
You still don’t believe, and resist your past
And future. Days were not always this long,
Nor nights so weary. I remember last

Summer, before all the good was erased.
Don’t you remember when it was so plain-
He said “ripeness is all” but we replaced
That with love. There is just nothing to gain

From forgetting the faith that you once knew;
I know it well, for I see it in you.

The Fault

They say the fault’s not in our stars, but what
About the spaces in-between? Barren
Parts do yield bitterness, that comes to cut
Inside. What we never know is foreign

Remains as a sore, and when we awake
Our thoughts are scattered. Or maybe it’s in
The tragedies, sad endings that do make
Us question more. Or no, perhaps within

Our frames of thought we are always this dark,
More open to what cannot ever be
Than what we can perceive. Perhaps each spark
Contains some truth to help us partly see-

For a doubt is the evasive fault, aimed
Not at show until all good has been claimed.

My Belief

I took you by the hand and let it fall
Between us. That bright star we knew fell too,
And rolled to the floor. My belief was all
That crashed- the star was safe because of you.

Who would have known my thoughts were but a gift
You expected? A spirit should be pure-
As unaltered by endless change and drift
From memory as by how you adore

Words of disbelief. Our tendencies are
Not the same, and so I never could please
Your desires. My belief was torn far
From me- I trembled as you breathed in ease.

So come, take back your heart, it is all you’re due-
My spirit only rests when I am true.

Night’s Call

You uncovered your defense so gently
That you may have never at all. But I
Remember the years you spoke differently
And was wrapped in dark before night passed by.

You came to the fire and reckoned it soft,
For the ash was tender- it blew off dry
As the dust of your desert. You took off
With barely a sole backwards glance and sigh.

But your skin- a matter more plain than smoke,
Was burned by divergence as well as fire.
Slowly hypocrisy tore off flesh’s cloak,
And then you returned, seared from night’s hire.

Now you’ve returned, from the dark at doubt’s end,
Until it returns, with new flesh to rend.
Lauren Claus is a graduate of Bishop Feehan High School in Attleboro, MA. She is pursuing an interest in creative writing and will be attending Harvard College in the fall.