Jennifer Coe
Based on actual events.
In second grade,
I took second place
in the state poetry contest.
This was a contest for kids
in first through sixth grade,
which doesn’t seem incredibly fair
to the first or second or even third graders,
by the way.
The world does seem to be full
of these little injustices
doesn’t it?
My mother was quite excited.
Proud of me,
her talented mini bard,
until
she
saw
my
poem.
It was called Hugs.
And that’s also what it was about.
It extolled the virtues of warm embraces
and listed exactly who hugs were good for.
Spoiler:
hugs
are
good
for
everyone.
It spoke of the type of people
who found hugs really, really delightful,
but I probably spelled it deliteful
because I was not a gifted speller.
And that spelling makes more sense,
I still think.
Oh, Dean Walley,
if you’re reading this
— which would be quite odd
because Google just told me you’re dead —
but if you are somehow,
inexplicably
reading this from the great beyond,
you are probably starting to catch on
to
what
is
going
on
here.
I used your words, Dean Walley.
Your beautiful words,
for my deliteful poem.
I had a poster print
of your most magnificent opus, Hugs,
hanging on the wall
of the modest little bedroom
I shared with my older sister,
Melissa.
I read your words every day,
every night,
burned into my brain.
My mother bought the poster
at the Hallmark.
It was probably on sale.
That woman loved a discount.
When we studied poetry
in the second grade,
and eventually started
writing our own,
I honest to god thought
I was just being clever.
I have a great memory.
I remember thinking
I was really going to knock
Mrs. Poe’s socks off.
The arrogance of youth.
I almost got away with it, too,
until my mother read my poem.
But I need you to know,
I didn’t actually realize
I was getting away with a thing.
I
was
just
being
clever,
Dean Walley.
You have to believe me!
My mom took me right in
to speak to the principal
and I remember feeling
intense, burning shame
but also felt lost
in a deep abyss
of confusion
because (as previously stated)
I thought I was just being clever.
Eventually, I confessed to my crime.
They had to hear it from my mouth,
they kept saying,
which was not deliteful.
Not delightful, either,
if I’m being honest.
Which I am
today, at least.
I was summarily disqualified
from the state poetry contest
which was the right thing
to happen,
I know
now.
I need you to know,
Dean Walley,
that I am truly sorry
I stole your poem
and tried to pass it off
as my own.
And even sorrier
that it only won
second place
in a poetry contest,
for
kids
in
first
through
sixth
grade.