ASRA is in week 2 and the kids are writing along. Here’s a poem that I wrote in response to a journal prompt the other day:
Farm Stand, Snow Hill
I can see the top of the plank
that holds cantaloupe, slices of watermelon,
tightly wrapped corn–the green seersucker
husks, the ragged brown tassel–every
splinter jagged through white paint,
every fly walking squat-legged,
tapping its tongue on sweetness.
My grandfather’s hand rests on my head
as he talks. The man with the fruit
looks down at me from shimmering
air. They laugh. I feel the heat
on parts of my hair that stick
out from his shading
hand.
“There,” the man says,
“she’ll like this.”
He hands down a white paper
dish. In it, golden, glistening
the perfect hexagons
of wax pressing against each
other, ragged at the edges,
honey so sweet I cough
on sweetness, then chew
and chew and chew.
Mattie's Pillow 