by Sidney D.
Written for a class assignment where the prompt was to mimic the style of E.E. Cummings
|red soil in june
is stuck underneath my fingernails
my brother dozes in the grass beside our home
our mother brings us a snack
waking my brother from slumber
ants on a log (celery&raisins&peanut-butter)
(the blanket she spreads is
the three of us read
sprawled in the shade waiting for the sun
(to disappear from sight)
waiting for my father to return
we breath deeply
why are we holding our breath?