Moss (Photo by James Qualtrough)

Writing, photography, and more from the Jeanette Sarkisian Wagner Teen Wrinting Workshop at the John Jermain Memorial Library

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Bikes by Chance Sevigny

I can’t discern our passing scorn

Whether the road, the blacktop worn
Was cause for any silent plight

And also, in their patent rage
The man, or men who wrote this page
Which deserved the mantle ‘right’

And now I walk, not speed, nor drift
Across an inclined ocean cleft
And startle at a passing noise

And even if well-wishers taunt
Or a scarred panthera haunts
I know these bikes weren’t made for boys