September 16, 2009 7:57 PM
The Young Writer
They made a hole in her moleskin notebook
with a drill that they stole from the shop room.
Did they think she wouldn't know?
(Of course not! That's why they did it!)
They slipped it back into her desk
and gleefully waited for a freak-out moment
when she'd try to fill it up with gobbledegook
like the pale little weirdo she was.
She never seemed afraid to scribble away
as the meanest teacher lectured on the human heart
in ways that made it ugly, difficult, and dry
(And by the way, it happens to be none of those things!)
They waited to giggle and smirk and they did
when she took it out and looked at it quizzically.
But she opened it and saw all the ghosts had stayed
And the dreams and the myths were snuggled up too.
And she thought about going to the park after school
And lifting it up so the sun could stream through
that clean little magical hole!
And they all kept on laughing and smirking away,
but inside they cried through dull-headed pains
'cause whatever she was doing just wouldn't fall through.
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