On Strike
Remember, Annie, when Miss Jones shamed you
for wet pants and you boycotted school.
Every morning, book bag on your shoulder,
you kissed Mom, left with us, ducked into the shed,
hid with rakes and shovels, a stray cat for company.
We reported you sick. Jacket and mittens on,
you traced upper- and lowercase letters,
sounded out the words of easy readers,
your breath frosted white, finally
opened your lunchbox when you thought it was noon
(no milk or recess). You watched for our return
and joined us, red-cheeked, truant, proud.
Be yourself at six, defiant, determined—
grief is a bully. Fight back. Don’t give in.
Latest posts by sundresspublications (see all)
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Roadmap: A Choreopoem by Monica Prince - April 3, 2026
- Meet Our New Intern: Tara Rahman - April 2, 2026
- We Call Upon the Author to Explain—Noel Quiñones - April 2, 2026
