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By Robert Wooten
Raymond begins to slouch
on the school bus
so that his own growth spurt
will not cause him to hit
his head
before he knows it. He slouches
when walking through the
halls at school, too,
because he recently grew
an inch
in a month and a half. It
is wise
to be prepared for what
could be.
No one has told him how
tall
that he may grow, and nobody
ever told him
that he would grow up so
fast.
Clothes into which he is
expected to grow
are rolled up around his
ankles
and wrists. Everytime that
he takes a step,
he hears the hollow end
in one of his shoes.
There is so much that he
could do
that it is difficult for
him to commit to
doing anything as he already
does it,
but in each moment he keeps
in mind what could be.
What could be is mostly
in the future for him now,
and it is something for
which not only he
but also his parents and
the city and state are paying.
I
earned an MFA in poetry
from the University of Alabama
(1998) and earned an MA
with a creative writing
focus from North Carolina
State University (1994).
Numerous periodicals have
published my poems, currently
published in The Blind Man's
Rainbow and others. A limited
edition chapbook of my poems,
Raymond Poems, was published
in 1998.
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