poetry ongrowing

by Jay Pabarue

Every morning, when light

comes through the window and trembles

like so many spoons on the floor,

A hundred poorly drawn fathers roll

onto a hundred shoulders, offer a hundred
contented hmmms, and fold themselves back
into sleep.

A hundred young sons hit

puberty. They sprout underarm hair
and begin to grow two hundred sinuous
biceps, unknowing. Breathing steady, broad sighs.

A hundred mothers wake with

two hundred aching, dry
breasts and gasp two hundred gasps
just as the sun rumbles upwards

and the light on the floor flattens
from wobbling spoons

to

a golden shell.

About the Author

Jay Pabarue is a high school senior from Philadelphia. His creative nonfiction has appeared in Philadelphia Stories, and his poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming from Redactions: Poetry and Poetics, Word Riot and Gloom Cupboard.

322 Review is a journal that publishes provocative emerging and established artists. Operated by Rowan University graduate students enrolled in the Master of Arts in Writing Program, 322 Review is aggressively seeking the best fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry, mixed genre, and mixed media works of visual art.