Too Little
Nose pressed in tiny squares
against the screen, I watch
casual laughing gods
walk home from school.
I envy their long legs
and glossy notebooks,
their unseen power
to unlock
words from shapes,
My sister drops A+ papers
and library books
on the speckled Formica table.
Asks me how many times
a butterfly flaps its wings.
Tells me I’m wrong.
Eats two cookies.
Announces we’re made up
of tiny things called cells,
made up of tinier things
called atoms,
also made of what’s smaller.
The kitchen walls stretch
to galaxy proportions,
the table a raft among stars.
I hold tight to my chair
and concentrate,
keeping my short legs,
my clumsy fingers,
the balloon of my body,
from dissolving into bits.
Laura Grace Weldon
Originally published by Litbreak.
Laura Grace Weldon 
Which explains very well why you’re such a together person! 🙂
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Beautiful, poignant, thought-provoking. Thank you, dear Laura!
On Thu, Jan 28, 2016 at 6:04 AM, Laura Grace Weldon wrote:
> Laura Grace Weldon posted: ” Too Little Nose pressed in tiny squares > against the screen, I watch casual laughing gods walk home from school. I > envy their long legs and glossy notebooks, their unseen power to unlock > words from shapes, ” >
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I was indeed an angsty child…
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Oh! I LOVE this!
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Thank you Erika!
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me too with the loving of your poem and your gentle, responsive, intricately poetic soul.
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BEAUTIFUL. in lak’ech, Debra
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Love your poetry! By any chance did your family ever live in Tenafly NJ?
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Thanks June. I’m pretty sure no one in our extended family lives in NJ, unless we’ve got distant cousins there.
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This is lovely, Laura! Thank you so much.
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