Three poems

Editor’s note:  Here is something a bit different from EVM — a sampling of thoughtful poems from one of our young neighbors.

By Ruby Spademan

Pretty Girls Eat Flowers

She’s standing behind me.

My neck in her hands and her mouth to my ear

she whispers to me.

She says I should only eat flowers.

Pretty girls eat flowers.

But counting calories means

that flowers are not acceptable things

and yet she tells me that they’ll make me weak

but keep my stomach clean.

My collar bones are staring to collect the rain again.

And watering my plants was easier than it seemed

but, as all gardens do, mine began to grow weeds

Dandelions are not for pretty girls

Pretty girls are perfect and only carry roses,

well, daisies were better anyway

pretty girls bleed suntan and tea

and I cannot compete

because I use sunscreen.

But pretty girls eat flowers.

So I’ll rip the dandelions from the ground

and pray that roses grow where they once stood.

She says pretty girls would give all that they could

to stay pretty girls.

and she’s standing behind me

But I can’t make her leave.


Some People Come in Hurricane

Some people come in hurricanes,

They impale your heart with footprints

and leave marks on your brain that

you can’t seem to erase.

They step into your space

and you swallow the rain that they give

because you love them.

You love them.

Some people come in hurricanes

and they wash away who you really are,

but that’s okay

Some people come in hurricanes

They take what they want

and destroy

the house you built for yourself

but you love them.

Some people come in hurricanes

and they don’t know

how to fix what they’ve done

because their mind is a mess

and you’re trying your best

to fix it for them.

Some people come in hurricanes

and like a storm

you have to let them pass.

Because some people are hurricanes

and sometimes it’s best

to let them go.



I think I caught frostbite.

They say it can be cured

but I don’t think cutting off my fingers will fix

what went to my head

some simple words that lead

to the death of my memories

and a never ending brain freeze.

Swimming in weather

barely below zero degrees to you, is a game

but it cost me my life

and how could you understand

when the land you walk on is warm

and in your world the rain doesn’t exist?

I wish I could tie a weight to you

and drag you by the water’s edge

so you could taste the salt that burned my skin

I’d bring the sand I’m buried in and wait for you to drown.

But how?
How could I take a life away when it isn’t even mine

It’s funny how some simple words destroy the human mind

and I think you gave me frostbite

but at least I’m not the one who’s cold inside.


Ruby Spademan is a resident of the College Cultural Neighborhood. She is a senior at Swartz Creek High School and has been writing poetry since she was seven years old. She will be attending Mott Community College in the fall with the intention of earning a degree in early childhood education.



Author: East Village Magazine

A Non-profit, Community News Magazine Since 1976

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