Student Poetry This Project WR245 More Home		“baby brother” Liz Hart baby brother can’t say his “r” I couple with him on the porch we blow bubbles to a full blood-orange moon, talk nonsense to the grass he wavers, leans way back at my knee and says “Pity! Pity!” with the fat cleft left hand extended toward the north-eastern sky, I notice his back double bends away from me, so I see chin, belly, grass stained jeans all three years, eight months, and eighteen hours worth we gaze upon it together, rising over the grain barns across the road, and the moon does seem to feel sorry for one of us I lean way back so my shoulder blades are against the boards of the front porch, baby brother hops looks down at his toes among the ants and grass seed bathed in alabaster my hand cups a bowl of sod, soaked in soap spill, it reminds me of baby brother there bent over as if the weight of the world is on his chest, like the turtle who holds the world atop its shell, carries it slow and deliberate around the universal core, and rests sometimes on the back of another turtle baby brother comes to lay his tired head in my lap he laughs when my fingers dance on his ribs I chase him into the yard, we dance some more, mostly for summer full moons, we snap our heads back and awe at red-yellow waxed orbiters, our clenched hands going up under our arms, I drop the silence, baby brother drops the “r” and howls Liz Hart, a student at Clackamas Community College, has always been a poet. She is passionate about life and her turtle. Liz will serve as intern for the Clackamas Literary Review beginning September, 2005. You may read more of Liz's classroom poetry by using the graphic links below.
		Previous             Next 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Copyright © 2005 Liz Hart All rights reserved. Spring Term 2005. Clackamas Community College, Oregon City, Oregon Web design by Doran Web Works.