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A Poem by Maya Kompella

Dream State

Again I have awoken in a field, calling my own name.

The cold sun with its teeth holds

each atom of which I am made in sharp claws,

plucks me apart until I become one

with the yellow grass in which I sit.

I stretch into a valley with no end—

I wait, undreamt, for life to take flight

out of the cracks in my skin.

I have not always been sleeping.


Maya Kompella is currently an undergraduate student and writer from Los Altos, CA, residing for the time in Chicago. Maya mainly writes poetry and short fiction. She serves on the poetry staff of Helicon, an undergraduate-run Literary & Arts Magazine, and has a poem published in Block Party Magazine.

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