Its history is amazing. A
floating damp light. Hanging high
in the sky wanting to be bright.
Some nights trying hard, some nights
trying to hide and other nights wanting
to show its full self.
THE WOOD SPEAKS
I grow. I provide shelter, for
animals for plants. Humans take
that shelter away, to make their
own. To build their houses and
businesses. I am everywhere. I’m
the paper in your hands, the floor
under your feet. The ceiling above your
head. The pencil you use. The posts
that build your houses, food for
termites. I eat sun and water, that’s
all I need. My friends are the
birds, the grass, rainstorms. I could
grow big or small, but eventually
I end up in your hands. Some way
The place where you will find
me playing Saints Row the third, on
my squishy bed where I sit looking
like a zombie mashing at the buttons
until I get the max powerslide. The
place where everyone is different but
we still love each other. The place where
I am the only boy. The place where
I can scream at my sisters for dancing
when I am watching, trying not to laugh.
The place where I got done with my “phase” when
I was ten, when I thought everything
was mine. The place that has
too many girls. A place where I think
I deserve a baby brother.
A stop sign, the freshly cut pineapple
slices Mom’s been toying with all day, the
infant’s toy learning block, the shape cut
into Dad’s tool to pry off a screw, a
pastel colored purse only the cool girls wear,
the old, dusty wooden stool at the art studio
begging to be used, the last shape put
on my grandmother’s charm bracelet.
He came to my house for a while.
But I didn’t want him to.
The smell of old fish.
The touch of his rough black hair.
I could even taste the smell of him
when he walked into the kitchen.
Every night I heard him making
this weird howling noise.
He was very hairy too.
He had dirty fingernails that were
kind of sharp.
Then one night someone was in
But it wasn’t Tom.
There stood a huge werewolf
eating all of our fish.
A few days later he left
Never to be seen again.
But next time Tom visits, I will
get rid of all our fish.
The smell of bananas
hinting on to the great
The scaly touch of
the shiny silver trout
in the cold water
The sound of metal hitting
together on a windy
The sight of the
metal bike you grew up
silver the color
of the money I don’t have
Richland Elementary School
West Memphis, Arkansas
Dates of Visit: April 4 – 5, 2017
Faculty Sponsor: Gwendolyn Looney
Grade Level: 6
Appx. Number Students Served: 75
Visiting Writers: Emily Lerner, Samantha Kirby