Growing Up

Jay Morritt, Poetry, Vol 2 Issue 1

Posted: January 30th, 2009 Track comments on this item via RSS


Growing up

They just aren’t the sort of questions

you ask someone:

“Do you not like me?”

“Why do you roll your eyes

when you see me?”

No.

They are the kind

you pack up

quietly in your sack

that you take home

and bury in the backyard

behind the shed.

Self-portrait of the author

How much heat you packin’?

When I go to the grocery

wanting an avocado for dinner

and find that none are ripe

I buy one anyway

slip it in my coat pocket,

walk home with my hand

cupped around it.

Bowl of Avocadoes

Chutney blues

I have onions

I have spice

apples

raisins

peppers

still

not by wishes

nor device

have I chutney.



 

Jay Morritt is a student at Camosun studying sociology, history, and psychology. He has self-published poetry in zines, and his work has appeared in the *Sparks* quarterly review.

Published January 2009

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