Gideon Young

teacher pockets

i got my teacher pockets
full of golden tickets,
a crumpled paper airplane,
unfolded; blue and green
giraffes, smiling.

a pen cap, black,
a chewed pen, blue.
there’s always juice-
straw-wrappers,
from the bus ride home.

i got back pocket pencils
point end down, for prevention,
they always end up broken.
i take home scissors,
repossessed for reason.

string, yarn; that day we made
masks from paper plates.
like mardi gras,
their perfect black faces
outshone bright glitter and beads.

Gideon Young is a native of Connecticut. His poetry has appeared in Obsidian: Literature in the African Diaspora and The Long River Review. He earned a Master’s Degree in Elementary Education from North Carolina State University and Bachelor’s in Literature from the University of Connecticut. Gideon lives in Efland, North Carolina with his wife and their two cats.

Comments