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| A stunningly beautiful book of poetry |
wants to leave the class and asks
to be excused.
"This is inappropriate,"
he says. "Depressing."
He wants to hide from harsh word pictures
of the days when racial tensions
in the South were at their peak.
The poetry collection they are reading
breaks the heart. It conjures up
the joys of family gatherings
but never shies from all the pain.
I tell the class I'm writing poetry
in April, too, and someone asks
if mine are good, as good as what
they're reading in the book. I smile.
"Some are good," I say, "and some
are crap."
No one snickers at the word.
They've heard much worse.
They've seen too much.
And hopefully, the harsh word pictures
they must read, so young,
will hedge the bet
such things occur again
as they become the leaders of their world.
(c) 2022 Ellen Gillette
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