Francis (First Place)
by Amy Wolner
When we emerged
Children shivering
Our fingers wrinkled from
Too much swimming
She would wrap us in
Sun warmed towels
Lemons from Francis's lemon tree became
Lemonade in our glasses
We would hug her
Our suits still damp
And she would laugh and
Say how refreshing it was and
To hug her again and
We Would
We did
Until she was no longer there.
Alicia Ostriker's Comments:
"A deceptively simple poem about the generous love of a
grownup for a band of children, wrapped around a presence
that quietly becomes an absence. A haunting piece."
crux (Second Place)
by Neil Kaufman
walking along the steps,
I met a toad, a bat, and a butterfly
the toad croaked, the bat squeaked,
but the butterfly
made no sounds
of any kind
I figured
they wee inquiring
why
I was on the steps
in the first place
to which I replied
to the toad,
"To jump,"
the bat,
"To fly,"
but I had
no answer
for the butterfly
so I sat
on a step
and thought
for a very
long
time
when I realized
the butterfly
had not asked
a question
at all
so
I did not give it an answer
and continued, embarassed up the stairs
Alicia Ostriker's Comments:
"Here is a charming cross between a fable and a free flight
of fancy, by a poet who is part toad, part bat, gently reduced to a
butterfly-like silence."
Laundry (Third Place)
by Jodi Hovey
You follow me out with the wet
laundry, through the doors, your brown
bare feet tracing the steps down, pushing
the grass down, and each vibrating
step sends up a buzzing, a simple
song of wind through seed pods,
camouflage for crawling crickets
and ants, delicately feeling their way.
You told me, laundry after the ecstasy,
over a cup of earl greay centered in your
calloused hands, a water lily caught in water,
eyes peering over the lip of the cup.
So now you hold the sheets
and shirts to the valley wind
that blows up the hill and into the trees,
rocking them into a rolling sway,
and I clip the cloth with a pin
to the rope that bows with the weight;
your head bend down slightly, not
really paying attention to the skirts
now being pulled by the swelling
of the currents, billowing out like sails.
You are listening; I can tell by the tilt
of your head, by the smile that kisses
your eyes with crows feet.
And as we pin up the last sheet,
carry the empty basket to the house
to let the lungs of the valley fill
our clothes with ar, you ask, softly,
if I can hear the sound of the dust
in the sunlight.
Alicia Ostriker's Comments:
"A lovely poem encloded in the sheets and shirts of laundry, the
billowing of wind, the steps of insects, and the bare feet, smile,
and voice of a 'you' captured in all outdoors."
The Sweater Incident (Honorable Mention)
by Rachel McGuinness
It was a green sweater
The West Catholic logo embroidered in the corner.
It was an unusually cold winter
With wind whipping through the hallways,
Leaving a thin coating of imaginary snow.
In my battered locker.
My half filled Meijer water bottle lay frozen solid,
Tiny ice crystals refracting
Broken patterns of rainbow colors.
In the cafeteria the only heat
Radiated from the glowing cross
Guarding the entry.
Then she appeared.
The one girl without a sweater.
Her hazel eyes a magnet searching for its other pole,
Resting on Ethan.
Hips swinging,
Eyelashes batting
Announced her arrival.
Perched on the edge of the orange cafeteria stool.
She stared at his sweater,
Trying to embrace its warmth.
After a few deep breaths and a shiver for effect,
She uttered the five most terrifying words a boy could hear
In a frigid lunchroom,
"Can I borrow your sweater?"
And everything went still--
The growling of the wind,
Clinking forks and spoons
Were all silenced.
Everyone, mouths full of partially
Chewed Oreos and bits of
sandwiches.
Waited for his reply.
Regally wiping his mouth with a spaghetti stained napkin,
Ethan proclaimed,
"I'm kind of using it right now."
She shot us a death glare
As she left her seat,
To shiver for the rest of the day
In the shadow of his green sweater.
Alicia Ostriker's Comments: "A poem whose tale of a failed high school flirtation will make you smile with its light satire."
The winners and judge's comments were first published in Voices, the literary publication of the Kent County Poetry Competition.
Works by Neil N. Kaufman
| mourning | Poem |
| Eucharist Moon | Poem |