To amuse ourselves during quarantine,
we set to work on all your old dolls,
scalping each straw-haired head
and packing it with dirt.
We were left with a crowd of carved grins,
middle-distance eyes and open minds, which, together,
we filled with thyme, and basil, and childish cress—
burying the seeds like fists stuffed in pockets.
They watched from the windowsill as you watered them,
scratching your shaved head and humming to yourself all the while;
and then we were done. You put the kettle on
and we talked about the world
outside; unseen, already
preparing to sprout and grow.
Javier Fedrick (L3)