Milk is shaken
Into her throat
From a Pyrex cup
She opens her mouth
Wide enough
To swallow
A book
Eyes wide enough
With the heart yearning
For simpler things
Meaningless
Meaningful
Simplicity justified.
Collinsia was her name
And why does
Anything have to make sense?
She wrote this poem
With her head swinging
Around and around,
Put the pen down
Smiled and said, "So there!"
In response
To my thoughts.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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