Fair Warning Poem by Evan Fowler

Up the woods behind the Junior High,
way off the road, sure I was unseen,
I knelt in snow to beg for Poetry.
The place was quiet as the youngest green.

Then I saw a red gleam in the snow,
shiny as the fame I'd just prayed
for, a pocket Guadeloupe, a badge to show.
I deserve answers, I'm in Ninth Grade.

Another kid had dropped it there, the bright
toy flower.Just touching it I was
the far edge of a searing grief,
the one forgetting doesn't set right,

the first of all Heavens to fall from that hand.
The secret that our own hands let them go
is one we never understand
until we're forced to know.

Be careful, asking God.
For show, as if I couldn't read the message
or feel that drilling stare,
I laid it on the grave of my prayer.