Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Sylvia

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Cold stabbed at
Her skinny little ankles,
And left shallow nicks in her motivation
As she waited
For the itty-bitty train
At the grimy train station.
Pulling and tugging the sleeves
Of her polka dot night gown,
She trembled like a leaf.
“I gotta leave,
I have to get out of this town.”
She paused for a moment
To tuck a stringy sandy strand behind
Her pink-brown ear,
To blink her milky
Little girl blue eyes.
A sudden wind
Trumped her common attempt.

The eensie-weensie train
Whooshed by
And she began to chase it
With tears of contempt,
Wailing, “Why me?
Why, why, why!”
She followed it to heaven,
To the whitewashed land.

(Quite overlooked),
She followed to the Devil
And his burning hot sands.
When her chicken legs grew tired,
She walked on her hands.
Then the train dove into the sea.
“Blast,” she cried,
“Why me? Why me!”
It stopped at a reef
Where all came aboard.
(Little fish and mermaids…)
She got the worst seat.
Fuel of bubbles,
Wheels Echinodermata,
Whale conductor, dolphin caboose,
The whole enchilada.
Scatted the blowfish,
“Boo-bam-boom-bata.”
A nasty lurch—
A sawing sound—
And diving headfirst
Into the abyss.

“Oh what’s this?”
Sylvia moaned.
“Am I to drown in the sea?”
The fish had all scattered.
“Why, oh, why me?”
The waters grew darker,
Frighteningly black.
As eyes grew scant,
Sylvia wished she could turn back.
Then she remembered something glorious,
Remembered something real:
She could never chase a train—
She could hardly run across a field!
She didn’t like polka dots—
Why she never wore a dress!

(Sylvia preferred pants.)
And then she recalled
She couldn’t walk on her hands!
She had never even learned
To swim in water—
She was too scared for that.
And why in the whole wide world
Would a blowfish ever scat?!

The water drained
Somewhere off.
The train melted into space,
The motion began to stop.

Sylvia wakened, but
Her eyes remained shut.
She was afraid
Of what she’d see.
All she knew was
That she wasn’t wet,
No longer trapped
Inside the sea.
Her eyes were pried open
By an evil force.
She slowly recognized
A foreboding white door.
And how she wished—
Oh how she longed!—
To be drowning in the sea
As she felt a salty palm
Press down on her mouth.
She couldn’t cry,
“Why God? Oh why me!”



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback