Gerry Jones, 14
Student

Walter Dean Myers

From my fire escape tower
I watch the whirl and swirl
Of the dance below
My hearts, Mya and June Girl, wave up to me
The smells of collard greens and curried chicken
Drifting from the kitchen
Warm-edge my thoughts
As I sit cross-legged, anchored by my
Book of poems
Inside, Bible anchored
Under the cast-iron lamp, its glow
Like some private sun
Grandma sits and rocks
Down the street a car squeals to a halt
I look up, a bare-chested, gold-toothed brother
Shakes his fist
At a slow-strutting sultry sister whose hips
Shakes her answer
Seeing there is no need for Royal Intervention
I turn the page

From Here in Harlem: Poems in Many Voices. Holiday House, 2004. Copyright (C) 2004 by Walter Dean Myers. Used by permission of the poet and the publisher.

Winner of the 2005 Lee Bennett Hopkins Poetry Award.