Teen Tidbit 11/30/25: Hannah Rubin

Hello, my name is Hannah Rubin, and I was a teen poet laureate in 2022-2023. Right now I attend Yale University and am majoring in psychology with a neuroscience concentration. Currently, I am an editor for my school's Jewish art and writing magazine, and I have a few pieces in progress about my own Jewish heritage, not just poetry but also personal essays and a short story. Besides writing, I love to play piano when I get the chance and I am the musical director of an amazing a cappella group called Magevet. I am also starting neuroscience research. After college I plan to take at least one gap year to get some work experience in a different country, after which I'll decide if I want to go to grad school. 

My Aisle

On each side:

fallen cherry blossoms border the pathway

as if some forgotten flower girl

scattered petals

down my wedding aisle

eyes open a little too wide,

I swivel my head like an owl

but cannot make out a figure at the end

On the right:

two stone buildings. The people inside

I think, found the end of the aisle

or at least it is in sight

I trace their footsteps each day

indoors, my fingers move uneasily

in their shadows

two magnolias flank

the door I cannot enter

warm violet, creamy white

with flowers as big as my hands

too large, I decide, too heavy

to support themselves

for long

In the afternoon:

I lift my face to the second floor windows

cheeks warmed by the sun,

I let the music shine

into my skin as if I, like a magnolia,

could transform myself

as if I, in the budding days of March,

could become more than just another tree

as if...

soon the blossoms fall, trampled flat

into brown decaying

silhouettes on the sidewalk

At night:

just me, the piano and the practice room lights

I close my eyes, wishing for someone

to ease the tension in my shoulders

so I can finally get that tough bass part right

but it hurts

I can’t play like this

I just want to be done

In the morning:

back again behind closed doors

I hear the end to everyone’s aisles

but my own

I inhale and listen

someday, I think,

I will photosynthesize

in the meantime,

I am a seed

I can wait a little longer

each month,

each year,

I will step a little farther

down the aisle

On the left:

are the small, plain magnolias

I prefer them to the showy ones

their slender white petals presume nothing

their quiet cinnamon scent comforts me

hidden by the roots of a tree my height

nestled close to the trunk,

one hardy flower remains

for now

all by itself

and I cannot tell if it is proud to have lasted,

or lonely

what are you doing here?

I wonder

as my fingers

walk run skip drag

across the aisle.