Red, To The Trucker Jacket, Poetry


Poetry is looking straight into every subway passenger’s eyes
In a 7 am 7 train
While everyone else stares blankly on the floor
In fear of something

Poetry is friends to all elephants
In all rooms
Poetry feeds it, nurtures it like its own
Until everyone else stops staring blankly on the floor
In fear of something

Poetry is the infinitesimal vast beauty of the cosmos
Captured in words, phrases, smiles and her golden brown hair
Just waiting for someone to digest it
And out if his belly shall flow rivers of living water


An unscratchable itch
A God-size hole
In my hollow heart.

A question of life
Apart from Jordans,
Cats or selling stocks.

The faith given
To paychecks, make-up
or Divinity.

The city melancholy
Fronts a smile
Clinging to sanity.

The search for breath
When air is iron
Knowing there should be more

T h e r e i s m o r e .

To the Trucker Jacket

Small, chest 34 to 36
You are young, denim so crisp
Red tab on the left chest
Buttons with the Levi crest
You’re a staple for the unstable
Warmth for hungry urban people
You’re faded and misguided
Modern slimfit misfit
Midnight lurker on downtown corner
Your demand is far less than supply
And the market commands you’re depreciation.

But I want you, need you
I’ll mop, take out garbage and wipe toilets for you
My blood, sweat and own flesh
Sacrifices to redeem you from your barren shelf
Because your flaws compliment my complexion
I know there’s a hollow hole hidden in you
Let me slide my arms in your sleeves
And fill you up with my being
Let me wear you and you wear me.

Together we will wear and tear.

Jed Abbi Lumongsod, Age 19, Grade 12, William Cullen Bryant High School, Silver Key

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