Lux Haney-Jardine '20 Wins Gold Key Award for Poetry

Lux Haney-Jardine '20 Wins Gold Key Award for Poetry

Sophomore is recipient of Southeast region's top award

His ability to turn a phrase has earned Lux Haney-Jardine '20 a Gold Key for poetry from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards.

A Gold Key is the highest honor bestowed at the Southeast regional level. Lux's work will now be judged by a national panel of creative-industry experts. Christ School finds out if the sophomore won any further awards on March 13. National winners get medals during a ceremony at Carnegie Hall in New York City.

Students across the country in grades 7-12 vie for honors in the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, which have been around since 1923.

Work is judged in 29 different categories. There were nearly 350,000 submissions this year.

The following are two of Lux's poem's: "Heartland" and "The Mayor."

The Mayor

The light that woke the mayor made him think
of town. It was a pale pink light ticked out

By a palpitating bulb
that droned above the empty road he lived on.

He sat upright in bed,
noticed his posture,

how his jutting head
sought equilibrium and not much else.

God was far off. And, like an enemy,
the town was all around.

The sound of the several mills
was nothing but a funereal sob. The hills

Were creeping with cattle,
and the cattle with liver fluke.

His heart was beating this way: stop, stop, stop...
God was far off. The town was all around.


This is the broken heartland of unbroken land
A wild underbrush fowl from span to span
An endless complaint of prairie plains.

My father's heart grew fond in this Siberia
And funerals call him back odd years
Until he's the last and there's no need to go there.

Now the last sister's packed up, dead
My father will drive down bawling Kansas roads
Broad Missouri avenues and endless boulevards

Pointing out to his little boy soul, a seat
Next to him, where one of his sons should sit
Each abandoned corner of wheat or dirt

Where an echo started long ago, echoes on
And the boneblond earth grows fond again
And no one worries about the herds, whether bison

Or cow, whiteface or red, railroad or death.