American History Lesson
Having listened to the teacher
having believed words in a book
I was asked to protect, to cover
with a brown grocery sack—look,
I was a girl who did as I was told—
opened the bag out, flattened then folded
it back in a different direction to hold
the book snug. In this way I was molded.
I can still recall the earthy smell, the feel
of the paper, worn but at the same time
crisp, but at the same time soft—how surreal
knowing what I now know of our crimes.
On the cover in proud bubble letters I inscribed:
American History, C. Veach, grade five.
Recommended
Poetry | Moriah Cohen
No Fall
No Fall
Poetry | Daniel Meltz
Riders on the Storm
Riders on the Storm
Poetry | Lara Egger
The Fathoming
The Fathoming