A Pink Duck on Mercury

Some words in the English language Are far too pretty for their meaning. Like sorrow, farewell, or tragedy, Or pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, And I agree, unless a poet is speaking. Because then I can build worlds only seen In a child’s fantasy.

I can describe a slide to Mars, Or a fish swimming in a tree. I can even wield these words to make someone see A pink duck on mercury. With lovely sentences, words have the might To make a rose bloom or stop a fight. But in my vocabulary, there will never be The words to say goodbye to you.

A Little Monster

Cassie hears giggles and playful screeches as she enters the playground. She clutches her violet science notebook to her chest. Her original plan had been to work on her project with Ms. De Silva, but the laughter drew her out the classroom door and across the yard to where she now stood, watching as the other children’s cheeks dimpled with joy.

Cassie’s sister stands in the center of the group, her head thrown back and a smile on her face. Lia is a year older than Cassie, with lighter hair, darker skin, and a never-ending confidence that often scared her.

Another spout of laughter drowns out Cassie’s frightened, beating heart.

Cassie approaches the small circle and stands between two of her sister’s friends. She manages to squeeze a ‘hi’ into the swelling conversation.

The laughter stops so abruptly that an overhead bird squawks in surprise.

Lia’s eyes look down at Cassie, and whispers surround her. What is she doing here? She’s so little. She better not cry again.

Cassie does indeed feel tears brush her bottom lashes, and turns away so the kids don’t see them. She should’ve known that this laughing, smiling group didn’t like her. No one liked her.

Cassie starts to back away, not meeting Lia’s gaze.

Lia’s nails dig into Cassie’s wrist.

“Stop crying,” Lia hisses through her teeth, an angry blush coloring her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing.”

Cassie pulls her wrist from Lia’s grasp and feels her skin twist. She runs as fast and far as she can. The wetness on her cheeks shames her. She is overdramatic, awkward, and embarrassing.

Cassie finds herself near Ms. De Silva’s room. The science teacher startles as she quietly enters. Cassie keeps her head down, hoping her teacher won’t see her sadness, though its shadow looms over her.

Ms. De Silva doesn’t leave her desk.

Grateful, Cassie sits down on her favorite purple bean bag. Ms. De Silva lets Cassie’s tears fall, then approaches. She quietly pats Cassie’s back and presents her with something. Cassie clasps it in her tear-soaked, eightyear-old hands.

A little monster smiles cutely at her.

Crocheted with vibrant hues of yarn and sporting different-sized and -colored eyes, it is something Cassie will never forget. This little monster will follow her for the rest of her life.

Flower Bauble

Sally Jamrog ’23