This is a piece I wrote for my independent study--I had to pick a news article and then turn it into a poem. I picked one article that had to deal with a little boy going missing in the Missouri River. It's a little morbid compared to what I usually write.
Hide and Seek
1, 2, 3. Ready or not, here she comes.
Her name is Missouri.
Sometimes she seeks people along
her shores, or on wooden docks made
for searching along her waters.
Sometimes she even lets them swim.
The people she picks up along her journeys
plead and grasp for land, like she’s not playing fair—
but she reminds them that this is a game
for the others, okay?
They’ll find you eventually, she’s sure.
Sometimes, on sunny days, she hordes her “treasures.”
She finds broken toys and
or even pieces from the news, when she thinks
the world is willingly playing hide and seek along with her.
“Search goes on for 6-year-old.”
She’s selfish this way, wanting to hold onto
something that is not her own. Her waters are
too busy hugging what belongs on land to notice
that her treasures are missing puzzle pieces
for people who miss
filling Easter egg baskets and eating mashed potatoes
with their families.
Sometimes, when Missouri is hiding with
one of the children she’s pulled from shore,
she listens with anticipation—but instead, only hears
tears that don’t taste much like her own water.
And even though each time she finds a new player they
cry and shiver and splash against the surface,
she only answers
to those who call out to her, in search
of the people she’s taunting—
sometimes we find them, we find them
underneath sunken fishing poles and broken toys.
And when she sees the seeker of her
tormented game, heart
she wonders if she should have played at all.