stanza my stone

I REMEMBERS FROM THE VALENTINE CITY

gammasandgerunds:

I REMEMBERS FROM THE VALENTINE CITY, by the fourth grade of Garfield Elementary in Loveland, Colorado.

1.

I remember writing the word the.

I remember when I lost a cricket in the house.

I remember when I lost my idea.

I remember when I walked on the grass and cut my foot open.

I remember Star Wars before it was done.

I remember when I had a new flavor of jelly bean for the first time.

I remember Frida Kahlo on the cafeteria floor.

I remember I was born on the day before the Twin Towers fell.

I don’t remember.

I remember my Uncle Matt’s hospital pain.

I remember my Uncle Matt’s suspenders holding up his pants.  I remember when a nest fell on the ground with the eggs still in it.

I remember my mom wouldn’t let me buy Justice clothing because it was too expensive.

I remember death in a glass box.

I remember when [Max] died.

Can I tell you how he died?

I remember a color.

I remember a table.

I sat on the table.  I remember when I sat on the table.

And not the floor.

I remember it before it happened.

I remember my first child’s recital.

I remember when my child ate cheese for the first time!

2.

I remember myself trying to get out of school. I remember the fuzzy light around the pussy willow buds. I remember the documentary of 2012. I remember the pink light in the sky at the end of the documentary. I remember the bomb. I remember the volcano. I remember all the people dying in the Civil War. I remember trying to sneak on to Civ. with Abby. I remember talking to Melissa in the car driving home the back way from Boulder. I remember the moss on the hamburger. I remember adopting a whale. I remember getting a shirt getting thrown over a changing room stall and getting stuck on my head. You make this paragraph. You go to bed. NO. I remember the daffodils. I remember the scale. I remember the god. I remember the exchange. I remember the death of my dog. I remember the teacup shattering on the ground. I remember the death of people at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I remember the dream. I remember the test. I remember the plan. I remember. I remember the photo. I remember the spy. I remember the document. I remember the lightning bolt crashing five feet away from me. My hair stood up. I was walking home from a sleepover. This is no lie. I remember. I remember, I remember, I remember.

(Source: poetryfoundation.org)