I tell you I’ve seen corridors.
More than many, fewer than few.
Corridors that lead to pain,
Drawn out from the plants and weeds.
Delinquent in the autumn breeze.
Corridors of burlap love,
Common clothed in revelry.
Corridors that feed an urge
And milk it, drain it, constantly,
Then carve it, broken, on the street.
These corridors of death and wine,
Corridors of ragged breaths
And stencils on an evening sky.
Corridors that coax you in.
Corridors that spit you out.
Corridors that command a break,
From synapse wars and obscured eyes.
I tell you I’ve seen corridors.
More than many, fewer than few.
Corridors that have no names
And corridors that do.
Matt Medved is a recent graduate from the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University, where he majored in journalism, minored in political science and had a concentration in creative writing. Matt has covered stories in South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, Zambia, Zimbabwe, South Korea and Australia in the form of hard news and narrative features. He traveled to Harare to cover the 2008 Zimbabwean presidential elections and has written extensively on South African street children and prison gangsters. Matt is currently pursuing degrees in international law and international affairs at George Washington University.
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