National Poetry Month

the spirits of the trees (2024) by Hadrian Cerulean

screams and threats at my back,
I sought refuge in my favorite tree,
an old cedar, huge and majestic,
confident she would shelter me

I climb her evergreen boughs, which radiate
from her trunk like bicycle spokes
as I reach the top, though intimidating,
I sway with the wind’s music box notes

she cradles me in her branches, whisking
away my worries, assuaging my fears,
while she and her sister trees whisper…
“you are more, you are more, you are more”

now, though decades have passed,
I carry the spirits of the trees wherever I go,
and it is there that at last,
I have found home

Music for Torching (2023)
To Billie

Honey, how he still your man so low in his high pants

yellow stripes slick shoes tipping in drunk covered

in some heffa’s lipstick. Baby, you begging this strand of a man

to let you keep him talking how you rather he beat you than quit

you better he black your face than leave your bed. Cigarettes & gin

don’t hide the heft of your hurt or the slope of your want Shame

that blisters but never bursts hope that ambles when he calls you

babe & coos your name so brazen he don’t even pretend to change

I know that falling. Been knowing that hush now don’t explain I’ve mistaken

time for loyalty & longevity for love I’ve cursed a man while fixing his plate

Fixed my hair special candles & birthday cake waiting for a love

who never came I still miss tasting that mean man some days his sweetness

diversion as he broke me & gently hid the pieces I see the same fissures

in you, girl that matchbox in your pocket tinder sorrow waiting to be convinced

& pissed enough to bend down to help me gather him cradle him prop him

up & drag this fine & mellow bastard away from your wanting door

All American by Katalina Montejo

Grade 8, Wilmington Friends School

2026 Scholastic Gold Key Winner

All American, but not white or black.

Tan like red dirt, tan like farms, tan like I’ve been outside my whole life. Not yellow like my best friend, not red like a true American. Tan like Texas, tan like Cuba, tan like Mexico.

Brown hair, straight but curly, wavy and big. All American yet not at all American.

Too white to be Hispanic, brown hair not dark enough, and no Spanish running through my mouth.

Empanadas, tacos, tamales, and churros but also burgers, pizza, and fries. Cowboy boots, sunglasses and a baseball hat.

Sweatshirts, jeans, and sneakers.

Farms white with cotton and pecan trees growing through cracked and dry dirt. Cattle smelly, dogs barking, rocks replacing grass. Donkeys, coyotes, chickens, and cats. Tractors loud and running through the fields. Racing cars through the mountains, back and forth, through New Mexico and Texas.

Fly back home, with green trees and humidity. Cold winters and hot summers. Field hockey and lacrosse. Short drives and school. Cars speeding past, the Brandywine River cold and rocky. The grass is bright in sunlight, but then orange and brown in the winter. People know people, Philly and Dover.

All American, but not white or black, not yellow or red. Tan like Mexico, tan like Cuba.

Places I’ve never been.

What does poetry mean to you?

For me, poetry is one of the ways I express myself, my emotions, thoughts, and stories. I love being free to write without the writing itself to be analytical or to answer a specific question. I can simply write about my pets or more serious topics without being bound by rules.