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Crayons
December 27, 2023
I remember mountain ranges
and clouds as they collided with mountains.
I remember the smell after the tornado,
where my old stories disappear in the wind.
An empty ESL classroom. An empty chair.
As if the world was made yesterday.
I remember the color of the sky
sketched after the storm
in shades of pastel.
I remember the sky as it rolled
down hillsides, and flaked acrylic
into our fingernails.
Crayons made the air waxy,
and each moment evaporated in the August sun
until time hung in the clouds
or was split like sunlight
through window shades.
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This poem titled "Crayons" is about an afternoon spent in the author's ESL (English as a Second Language) classroom after a tornado ran through the town the night before.