What We Make

Rahkinah Laurel


Clouds changing like cotton candy
in a cotton candy machine, and this
a bird singing
and flowers begin to bloom
before the season, out of season.
We’re all out of season, sometimes.
Clouds flowing throughout the heavens. . .
The sound flowing out of a sense of completion
and also of being in the middle.
A place of completion half full and half empty
a place to move forward or go back.
Can we move forward?
It’s humid in February.






The rain poured down on the wooden, blue cabin. The cold air blew against the brown trees. The clouds moved swiftly through the skies like a leopard moving through the forest. The rain was like Australian crystals or diamonds shimmering throughout the atmosphere. The cabin windows reflected a rainbow that spanned to the heavens. As the cold air whistled like a tea pot, a gold pigeon flew from one rooftop to another. Misty, murky days. . .







Black is deep with a harmony of richness that makes me think. Black is mysterious. Black Is good-luck. Black is infinity like space. Some blackness is bold, some blackness is pretty, some blackness is cold like mars. Black is deep with a harmony of richness that makes me think.




I am at Drexel’s Dornsife Center. It is approximately 7:30 pm. It feels like summertime. While the fluorescent lights in the ceiling are allowing me to read and write genuinely. Beautiful zephyrs are flowing in the environment the temperature is in the mid-fifties. Airy scents of my dove soap with pizza and cheese are surrounding my nostrils. I am writing an eight-minute remix in the English class. I am at my Drexel Dreamhouse which includes approximately eighteen people. Everyone is studying English/Creative NonFiction and we ate pizza for dinner. I am here because I enjoy education, learning and being socially and educationally accepted. I hear a muffler of a raggedy car in the background of the environment fading away. I see all unique people writing, working, and there are beautiful windows in a plush suite with extravagant carpet. Miss Rachel is taking pictures. A chalkboard is directly in front of me, to my right Mr. Norman is reading. Behind me is an empty table of the remembrance of the delicious pizza. The importance of the ice cream and cake-like ceilings are aglow for excellent thinking and writing. I’ve noticed that it is quiet, I am around good people, and I am in college. Shh! Don’t tell everyone.


Rahkinah Laurel

RAHKINAH LAUREL attended Morton McMichael Elementary School, University City High School, and Community College of Philadelphia. A resident of Mantua, she was a member of Rachel Wenrick’s Fall 2015 Creative Nonfiction class.