​ 
Why Ms. Hicks Neither Wastes Nor Minces


Words for some reason in her childhood
took on tangibility they were things
you could actually taste like sand
from the beach you put in your mouth
before your mother reamed it out and
told you not to do that again or books
you could get your Uncle Phillip to
read to you if you asked nicely and
chose the caboose book his favorite he
read so expressively toddler Ms. Hicks
loved him and sat on his lap touching
the pages though he drank too much and
her father said he wasn’t a very nice
person or Legos you could put together
in a tower your brothers liked to knock
down or Pink Baby who didn’t cry if you
carried her upside down or by her foot
and who helped you take naps or Spotty
the rocking horse who sometimes tipped
over or the musical vacuum cleaner you
could run with through the whole house
and sometimes change into a lawn mower
words could change a dining room table
into a caboose or a cave to hide in or
a jail your brothers could lock you up
in if you really liked words they lived
in your brain and belonged to you you
could do secret things with them and
it was okay for somebody else to play
with them you had to share even though
you didn’t like sharing but it could be
okay if the other kid understood they were
your words and they couldn’t take them
home with them they had to give them back. ​