Sebastian Rosado

Permanence: A Horror Story

These odorless carcasses remain photographic, fiercely resisting the titanic pull of Mother Nature. Large wooden wardrobes and tin toys soak in the rain day after day. The fields are drowning. A tree sparked into electric lament by lightning continues to burn after thirty years, hours crackling into hours. Absolute silence spreads its definitive hands across the land. The birds forever close their beaks at the unraveling of the soldier’s tongue. Trampled flowers idle like porcelain vases on the ground for eons. The lake water remains choppy. Eyelids collapsed and then, still collapsed. The gravity of a mesmerizing lullaby caressing a bike handle against the soil. Engines rumbling. Tree tears of perpetual autumn, fall. Eggs crack but nothing comes out. The Lone Survivor picked up what the soldier left. Cigarette lighters, holy books, freezers of meat, sweaters with holes in the writing elbow. He took it all home and stored it deep in his left ventricle. His hands are contorted, begging for a marionette.

Sebastian Rosado is a student from Peru trying his luck as a freshman at Boston University. Although Sebastian has written poems before in planes and desolate train stations at midnight, none of them have ever been published. He can be found riding his Pennyboard around campus, trying to find his passion in the arts or attempting to remain healthy in weather conditions colder than anything he has ever had to deal with before.