When we come back
to class, we have
to finish our quiz
by reciting five helping verbs.
Except I don’t have to;
I have a note that
says it’s okay for me
to write things down.
I don’t like to speak
in front of people.
Some teachers say I won’t.
But it’s not that.
I don’t like to talk.
My father says
it’s because my mom had to go.
The doctor he takes me to
agrees with him
and thinks it may be “selective mutism.”
But I don’t have anyone
I want to talk to right now.
I’d rather spend time on Main Street
with my grandfather in his jewelry shop,
where he fixes broken things
and makes them whole again.
Sometimes I watch my father build houses.
He can hammer a nail in with one swing.
Not me. I’m kind of small,
and a little round,
and I can draw a tree faster
than I can hammer a nail,
so I stick to that.