By Tamaa Davis-El
"Blank like a canvas, made from pulverized wood pulp
Loose leaf or wire bound, wide or college ruled
You’ve been there for me since I was a kid, like stiff tissue for my word vomit.
Blue lines like flat waves waiting for the words to hang ten
One red line like the Western border to the wrong country
And three holes for the option of joining a notebook
What will you become today?
Back then it was schoolwork, cursive practice, and print punishment
I will not talk in class
I will not chew gum in class
25 times, 50 times, 100 times!
Our hands and fingers cramped and muscled from writing….for hours
The first flange on the middle finger caloused…from the Bic, Paper-Mate, or Ticonderoga #2
From book reports, spelling tests, and math problems.
Perfumed sheets of love letters to my forever crush
Never sent, never received
Relegated to a top secret journal or shredded
Into wet confetti in an emotional release because
He didn’t love me back
Contorted into fortune tellers or paper airplanes
Sailing over desks and making the smaller kids’ eyes glow with wonder!"
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