Once

• Anita Tsangaris, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2018

Once, I drew the sun in the corner of the page.
That was the year people started shouting,
and the boy down the road knocked on the door
with a smile and a wilted flower.
Once, in a toilet with writing on the walls I decided I was ugly.
That was the year I started crying for no reason at all,
and the boy down the road drew x’s with his lips
because that was the thing to do.
Once, on a piece of paper with red ink I was told to try harder.
That was the year music hurt my ears,
and pencil sharpeners had missing blades
and the boy down the road stopped talking and even smiling.
Once, in a room with an unmade bed I found a boy in a closet.
That was the year I forgot how to sleep,
because all I could see was a wilted flower, and I wished
I still knew how to draw the sun in the corner of the page.