Below is part one out of four of my verse piece “April.” I wrote and published this piece in my Junior year of high school. Every part is told in a different point of view. The titles are the names of the characters who are speaking. I must say, this was one of the first times I really wrote something I wanted to, and it turned out to be successful.
I hope you all enjoy,
Dahv
I.
Anika
Each emergency exit
blocked by backpacks, books.
Underarms patched with sweat.
Choked by his tie, he tells us
To clear the hall.
We prowl homeroom,
Pussyfooted. Sardines
In windowsills, we watch teachers
Throw clipboards in dirt
Then share a pack of smokes.
An ambulance parks
By the fire hydrant.
State troopers grind
Back tires on curb-
Stones. Each leans
Against a cruiser
Like a bike’s kickstand.
April was shot
During third period:
Intestines on
The bathroom floor
Like jump rope. I,
Her lab partner, clenched
A bubbling test tube. April
Got a barrel-full.
Superstition is unsalted.
Sardines watch April
Rolled to an ambulance.
The gun was mine
For a week;
I don’t carry bullets.