Flying Squirrels

by Jackson Tham

Third Place 

Waring School 

Grade 12

In the rattling, clattering darkness

of the concrete cellar,

the squirrels chase each other round and round.

They tumble in the basement beneath my feet.

Nails scratch and scrabble at the insides

of the beige walls.

My study vibrates, the desk lamp trembling

in the early hours when

the traffic light leaks through my window.

Once one appeared on my desk

twitching in the warm pool of light.

We stared at each other, eyes wide, waiting.

Q&A

by Julie Durning

Third Place

Waring School

Grade 8

Is this real?

The eyes stare at me through

The dark of the stark dorm room

Seeking the answer

My heart won't give.

Are you?

An unforgiving face

In a desk chair

Sees through my disguise.

I don't think I could do that, you know?

A door slams

And a friendship is forgotten.

Are you alright? Are you okay?

My sister holds a tattered paperback, her smile broken,

And the IV pulses in my left arm.

Can you hear me?

My grandfather laughs to break

The silence in his ears,

As a teenager pulls an old friend out of the road.

Why can't I answer?

I lay immobilized on the cool tile floor and

Keep my mouth shut.