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Lilliana Resnik

Ijamsville, MD

Urbana High School


Claudia Ann Seaman Award

Runner-Up for Poetry


the theme of the dance is Hippies, which 

is of course a great irony, as the chaperones 

(who patrol the room like pale, stodgy

ghosts) will pounce on any kid with

drugs or notions of free love or hope for peace.

the statue of the mascot is an effigy

costumed in tie dye and bell

bottoms. where are you, flower

children? the revelers pose for photos 

in front of posters slathered with anti-

war slogans. what was once 

a hallmark of revolution has now aged into

senile decoration. the words are

the very same that dripped from 

your lips as the policeman swung his club. 

(the plastic tie-dyed tablecloths 

don’t know that, though.) it’s rich, it’s 

all too rich. paper peace signs bob 

on strings above the lunchroom 

door, jittery. inside is a cavern, 

pulsating with popularity, braggadocious

beats careening off the walls. the dancers 

are lacquered, shiny, without a hint of

your righteous grime. we are your kin: birthed

into tumult, trying to navigate an ever-

bleakening world. but—progeny of ginsberg—

i cannot even see your echoes. and so i

stand stock-still in the very heart of it,

gazing up at a crisscross of fairy lights amid this 

cacophony of gyrations, and think of you.

would you weep at the spectacle? or did you

see it in your mind’s eye all along?


Whether you're a seasoned homecoming veteran or an impassioned anti-activist, Lillian Resnik transports you into a world like no other. Shifting from surreal language to ethereal imagery as its lines transpire, this poem expands far beyond the scope of the few hours of the dance. As the images accrue powerfully, they ineradicably imprint themselves on your mind. The sensation is as if waking from a dream, as when the reality of one thing blurs with the hazy beauty of another.


This poem is, for much of it, funny and sardonic; as the speaker says, ironically, “it’s rich, it’s / all too rich.” Yet, as it moves along and pulls the reader towards its heartbreaking close, the tone shifts dramatically to one of loss, perhaps even of grief. Throughout the poem, a second-person piece about a Hippies-themed Homecoming dance that feels much too artificial, much too disconnected from the era it is trying to emulate, the “you” is painfully absent. It’s this absence that defines the poem, that presses down heavily upon the speaker, both translating and clarifying their disdain for the dance into a deep discomfort with the “ever- / bleakening world.” As we observe the chaperones who “patrol the room like pale, stodgy / ghosts,” the ghost of the “you” remains, and we wonder if the club-swinging policeman referenced earlier might be responsible in some way. Longingly, the speaker says, “and so i / stand stock-still in the very heart of it, / gazing up at the crisscross of fairy lights amid this / cacophony of gyrations, and think of you. / would you weep at this spectacle? / or did you / see it in your mind’s eye all along?” It’s the preciseness of the details, and the way the poet weaves together so many layers of significance into these details, that gives this poem a richness and power that are rewarded by multiple readings. Such a powerfully complex poem speaks to the talents of a very skilled, perceptive poet, one whose mature eye for irony, loss, and craft will continue to guide their writing.


Lilliana Resnik is a writer and student at Urbana High School in Ijamsville, Maryland who is preparing to graduate in 2020. She is a passionate reader, writer, and, when not writing, is probably at rehearsal for the school play. She would like to thank the 60s activists for their inspiration.

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