Janice Ewing: Two Poems

Fifth Grade

bolted firmly to the floor

my desk in row one

maple surface scored with initials

thin ridge for yellow pencil, pink eraser

rusted hinges creak

revealing a trove of leaden textbooks

and underneath it all

bubble gum barnacles

hold fast

Lonesome

When I got home

my husband said

what made him sad

was seeing one toothbrush

leaning in the cup

on the bathroom sink.

* * *

Biographical Note: Janice Ewing grew up in the Bronx but has lived her adult life in Philadelphia and its suburbs. She is a writer and adjunct professor. Her earliest memories include weekday afternoon trips to the library and Sunday mornings with the NY Times spread all over the living room. She enjoys reading and writing poetry as ways of understanding the world. She has a husband and two adult daughters, all of whom love to read. See Janice's poems in our September 2009 issue and in our October 2009 issue and in our December 2009 issue.