Teen Poetry Contest Winner for 1999
Niles North High School, Grade 12
G r a y
Gray, gray, gray, gray!
It is not a color.
It is the dark bloated corpses of clouds
heavy with unshed snow.
It is the moon's frail, barren face
shining through a dirty window pane.
It is the broken teethy stones that line a shore
and cut the feet of beachcombers.
It is the gentle mark of time
running through my grandmother's hair.
It is ashes and dust and loneliness.