Once On Some Yellow Paper

Once on yellow paper with green lines he wrote a poem,
And called it "Chaps" because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about.
And his teacher gave him an 'A' and a gold star,
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
And read it to all his aunts.
That was the year his sister was born,
With tiny toenails and no hair,
And Father Tracy took them to the zoo
And let them sing on the bus,
And his mother and father kissed a lot,
And the girl around the corner sent him a Christmas card
Signed with a row of X's.
And his father always tucked him in at night,
And he was always there to do it.

Once on white paper with blue lines he wrote another poem,
And he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about.
And his teacher gave him an 'A' and told him to write more clearly,
And his mother didn't hang it on the kitchen door
Because the door had just been painted.
That was the year his sister got glasses,
With black frames and thick lenses.
And the kids told him why his father and mother kissed a lot,
And that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left the butts on the pews,
And the girl around the block laughed
When he went to see Santa Claus at Macy's,
And his father stopped tucking him in bed at night,
And sometimes got mad when he cried for him to.

Once on paper torn from his notebook he wrote another poem,
And he called it "A Questioned Innocence"
Because that was the name of his grief
And that's what it was all about.
And his professor gave him an 'A' and a strange and steady look.
And his mother never hung it on the door
Because he never let her see it.
That was the year he found his sister
Necking on the back porch,
And his parents never kissed anymore,
And he forgot the ending of the Apostle's Creed,
And Father Tracy died.
And the girl around the block wore too much make-up
And it made him cough when he kissed her,
But he kissed her anyway.

And that is why, at 3 a.m., he tried another poem,
This time on the back of a pack of matches
And he tucked himself into bed
With his father snoring soundly.
And he didn't call it anything
But he gave himself an 'A'
With a slash on each damp wrist,
And he hung it on the bathroom door,
Because he couldn't reach the kitchen.

Richard Llewellyn Williams
Poet Lauriat
October/1963
Marianapolis Preparatory School
Thompson, Connecticut