– for Beryl Thomas
  
 Mrs. Thomas stood before the class, 
 colored chalk dust flecked across 
 her navy blue blouse.  She snipped 
 the folded paper this angle, that, this 
 curve, and straight, and opened it 
 to a T or a B.  We made an alphabet
 louder than we could speak or write, 
 to frame the blackboard.  Our manila 
 paper drawings filled the hallway
 bulletin board heralding in crayon
 the holiday soon to descend upon us.   
 October brought us orange, black, 
 and brown construction paper, 
 the ribbed shells of round pumpkins 
 flat on the desk.  Cotton and library 
 paste became Santas and paper chains 
 to swag our fir and pine trees.  Then 
 cherries in bunches of three for George, 
 and plump hearts with lace borders
 for the love of all our fellow artists.
  
 No one asked why we played, carefully
 guided, with color and shape.  No one
 told us pumpkins could be hearts, 
 or hearts the history of fear.  Most of us
 have never heard the words never said.