Poetry 1 min

Where I’m From by Domenica Falkenberg

Alexandra Writers Centre Society

I am from glass mug, from Band-Aid, and J-ello

I am from the brown window, bright, loud, smooth

I am from the fern, the daisy, and lake

I am from Sunday dinner and weird

from Dominica and Anthony and Paviglianiti

I am from good food and complaining in the heat

From sticking my finger up my nose and poking out my eye

and All of us will die

I am from crosses, bibles, and stale bread.

I'm from Italy, pasta, and garlic bread

From the one time my grandma leaned over to me

while we were driving her home and whispered,

"I know what 69 means."

(Very unwarranted)

And the time I made my father cry

After telling him all about my concert experience

Of which I waited six years to get

I am from graveyards on hills, printed masks, and music festivals

(This piece was created as part of the Reality is Optional Kids' Writing Club at AWCS.)

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