Hymnal by Dia Wright (18, Illinois)

Bones of the rain
Wind shrieks, whistles
And I remember
All the world was bones
Dry, hollow, shaking
Icicles, like bones, hanging from the rooftops
Sky like a gray glass eye
And all the world was bones.

Group home windows shredded light, shredded clothes
Boys like sheep, sulking, scuffling through their herd
Dry sandwiches, wet spaghetti
Strapped inside the walls, gumming music
Repeating decimal of grunts and screams
And I was never there, so how could I know?
I only see you through a kaleidoscope of questions
You always existed through paper and Velcro
But I remember dark, shiny circles of bedposts
Warm, vibrating nights, a buzzing brush,
Books in sympathetic stacks, bindings ripped
Rooms grew dark at bedtime, and I was afraid of outlines
Shadows on my doll-crowded walls, cracks on the ceiling
And all the world was bones.

Kids on the swing sets, sunny kids
Bobbing up and down, like bright butterflies on string
Playground sand in early spring
Damp, chilly, mushy sand, seeds and trash
Sand on my hands—pouring, scooping sand
Plastic pulleys and buckets heavy with sand
Sand castles, Mexican child hands tugging.
At the playground, sometimes, red wooden ships
Crawling with kids, and rope ladders I’d never climb
Sand-covered, sunset-bathed, dripped with promise.
Mom in her dark blue windbreaker walked and walked
Playground paths. Banana Man, Dairy Joy, Banana Split--
Mom’s hands, sweet like John Denver’s voice. Mom gave me a dilly bar.
Bananas dripped in Mom’s hands. Warm chocolate, crunchy nuts.
Air was mild. And all the world was hands.

Windows passing by--
I will return to you. I will stare out the Amtrak windows
All night in the transience of trees
And a chocolate-haired girl sleeping next to me.
I will stare out the train windows, my cares fading fast,
Like the sun in my heart’s windows. I will look inside
My friends’, my strangers’, my angels’ windows
Homeless windows, wordless windows.
My hands will reach out for my ticket of breath. All my life’s a train.
I love what my eyes see. Light rushes through the night in my bones
Look into my soul—you who have bones of glass. And all the world is windows.