Xennial Memes
A page from a book with a poem in black serif type on cream paper. Title in italics: Ghosting. By Andrea Cohen. The poem reads: How cavalier people are— with language and with silence. Any ghost will tell you— the last thing we mean to do is leave you.

Ghosting, a Poem by Andrea Cohen

A short Andrea Cohen poem about ghosting, the modern habit of vanishing from texts and relationships without a word, and how casually people use silence.

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A page from a book with a poem in black serif type on cream paper. Title in italics: Ghosting. By Andrea Cohen. The poem reads: How cavalier people are— with language and with silence. Any ghost will tell you— the last thing we mean to do is leave you.

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Black serif text on a plain white background reads: "Not everyone deserved to know me, to touch the pieces I so freely offered before I knew that knowing me is a privilege; my time, my heart, my trust. But I don't regret it. Maybe they needed those pieces of me. Maybe they learned something. I know I did." Below it: "Stephanie Bennett-Henry". Photo of an open book page. Heading: "THE SUN NEVER SAYS". Poem: "Even / After / All this time / The sun never says to the earth, / "You owe / Me." / Look / What happens / With a love like that, / It lights the / Whole / Sky." A small star ornament sits above the title. Screenshot of a poem titled "Why Are Your Poems so Dark?" by Linda Pastan. Text: Isn't the moon dark too, most of the time? And doesn't the white page seem unfinished without the dark stain of alphabets? When God demanded light, he didn't banish darkness. Instead he invented ebony and crows and that small mole on your left cheekbone. Or did you mean to ask "Why are you sad so often?" Ask the moon. Ask what it has… Black text on a white background. Title: "Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin. "Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum. But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as… Top text reads: "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Below is a photo of a white sign on a dark green door that reads: "REFUSE TO BE STORED IN BLACK PLASTIC SACKS AND PLACED IN THE CONTAINERS PROVIDED". Screenshot of a poem titled "Good Bones" by Maggie Smith, in black serif text on a white background. The poem is about hiding the world's terrors from your children, comparing life to a bad house a realtor calls beautiful because it has good bones.

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