Claire Buoni

Claire Buoni is a freshman from Pennsylvania. She is a Communications major, Studio Art minor, and Activity Director on Hinderlie’s RHC. She enjoys many creative pursuits, such as painting, poetry, ceramics, and collage. Claire is a cat person, and she thinks that tells you all you need to know about her. 

Commute

It was practically a road trip – one hour here and one hour back, just to see me 
every week. When you’d come to my house and have dinner with my family, I 
felt normal – isn't this what most teenagers do? Teasing and winking and spilling 
ketchup on the patio – blood red sticking to stone. 

When I’d come to your place, there would be syrupy late-afternoon sun in my 
eyes until we reached the cool of the basement. We played video games 
and didn’t eat and drifted in an empty parking lot – isn't this how most girls feel? 
Unbothered yet unsure and still wishing for the right words – irises sticking to 
silhouettes. 

When you’d bring me home, I would hope for the hour to stretch forever, 
that playlist to never end. We would wind those silent, hazy roads, the pressure of my 
hand in yours keeping me awake – isn't this how it should be? You and me and 
no one else – sticking to one another. 

I Am a Real Doctor

Open your eyes wide, I'll slip through the blue crystal windows

And hug your headache until you’re comfortable.

Loosen your brain, love, let me carve a seat in your skull.

I’ll comb all the knots out and knit you back up.

Unlock your rib cage, let me into that ice chest.
 
I’ll brighten your dark rooms with glowing red lights,

Nearly hot enough to burn through skin.

Take off your t-shirt, I’ll sharpen your shoulders

To protect you from the harvesters who take your tender organs.

Up the throat, behind the mouth, I’ll climb out, close your eyes.

You’ll never know I was here.