Kindergartner’s Woes by John Dorroh

we are not babies here any longer
and we know what you are up to

only so much air in the envelope
the glued flaps closing me in so

tightly that I cannot breathe it is
not beautiful in here I want to see

how the sunshine hits the side
of the house where the ivy clings

with tiger claws onto the old red
bricks. you need to help us. hold

the envelope in a path of gentle
steam, you won’t even have to

shake it. the dried glue will melt
like our hearts and pop open the

souls inside. I reach for hair and
leaves and pull back a lion, its

breath is stale meat, dried blood,
and words about fire and sass.

force my wings to unfold. they
need soft help all the way to the

edge where creatures so often
fall off into an undeserved oblivion

©2018 John Dorroh


Follow John

Whether John Dorroh taught high school science is still up for grabs. However, he did manage to show up every morning for a few decades with a thermos of coffee and at least two lesson plans. His work has appeared in Dime Show Review, Tuck, Piker Press, Red Dirt Press, Indigent Press, Red Fez, Event Horizon, and several others. He also writes short fiction and the occasional rant.


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