I Wonder
 
I wonder what it would be like to pet a purple cow,
that makes purple milk that people like to slurp
in the sun.
I wonder if purple cows have blue spots
like the blues that float through the air from a saxophone;
Or maybe even a nose as  yellow as a lemon.
Maybe they like chocolate or maybe they don't.

Who knows until you let your imagination
find out in dreams - and in the morning,
grab a book and write about it before you step out of bed.

Isabel Kennedy (age 10)

Taciturn

The mouth cannot form the words that speak out
sincerely, to all who may lend an ear.
Naturally, the eyes avert themselves
from the truth, an apology, so mere.
Yet they casually gaze out windows,
blinking away one impossible tear.
How frightening to be so vulnerable,
that’s the reason, their one pathetic fear.

They truly want to speak up, I promise;
their taciturn words are unintended,
their scarce, furtive glances across the room…
these hurt feelings are easily mended!
And when they disappear, seeking solace,
they hope to hear that the war has ended.
If you wouldn’t mind, just knock on their door,
say, “The food’s cooked and the garden’s tended.”

Why should it matter who says sorry first?
What’s important is that they feel the same.
If they flip their hair challengingly, fine.
Just don’t let them whine when they say your name,
like it’s a curse, like it makes their tongue sting,
like the idea of you is “legit lame.”
For it’s neither sensible nor mature
to play this endless, irrational game.

The chair they sit on squeaks as they begin
to turn, shift their slouched position, and rise.
Facing you, as if you don’t belong there,
staring you down with passion in their eyes.
You wait while they gawk, patient and friendly;
they manage but one word after three tries.
The word makes you shiver, so then, at last
you gently confess your fears and your lies.

Miranda Willson (age 14)

Coming Back North

You came back north with nothing
but cancer and a line of credit

forsaking the south Florida smell
the taste of water you didn’t like

You came back north
seeking a bed near mine

no need to speak of credit or debt
we knew what was to be
played out in a zone of life
where obligation whispers

You came back north with nothing
but x-rays and memories

we exchanged two views:
inside out and present to past
no hope and hoping backward

you came north to go back
and I had to find my own way home

Bruce Jennings (18+ category)