Sixth Grade
We didn’t like each other,
but Lynn’s mother had died,
and my father had died.
Lynn’s father didn’t know how to talk to her,
my mother didn’t know how to talk to me,
and Lynn and I didn’t know how to talk either.
A secret game drew us close:
we took turns being the prisoner,
who stood, hands held behind her back,
while the captor, using an imaginary bow,
shot arrow after arrow after arrow
into the prisoner’s heart.
but Lynn’s mother had died,
and my father had died.
Lynn’s father didn’t know how to talk to her,
my mother didn’t know how to talk to me,
and Lynn and I didn’t know how to talk either.
A secret game drew us close:
we took turns being the prisoner,
who stood, hands held behind her back,
while the captor, using an imaginary bow,
shot arrow after arrow after arrow
into the prisoner’s heart.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright © 2012 by Jeanie Greensfelder from her most recent book of poems, Biting the Apple, published by Penciled In, 2012. Poem reprinted by permission of Jeanie Greensfelder and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.