national anthology of the best undergraduate writing 2014


Erica Hauswald  • 
Grinnell College

Even the air is ice-

ridden. Locals rehash


the sweep of tides flushing

out debris, clams


freezing in their pitch-

gray sandbeds. This wintertime


summer home sits

dark on its plot.


Tree frogs chirp until

nine, then disappear,


sleeping in the scrub pine.

Defiant in its anti-


urbanity, this house releases

not a single sound.


My spine curls, fetal,

trapping in


some spot of body

heat. The pitch


of my own breathing