Biting Pencils
Kirby Wright
Dadio’s biting pencils during breakfast. He
loves the way they crunch when he clamps down
on their orange paint and leaves imprints of teeth
in the wood. He doesn’t touch the erasers yet enjoys smelling them. Why he bites I’ll never know,
although maybe he’s trying to leave his mark on
the world. The taste of pencil serves as a starter
for his main course of a boiled egg and Sanka,
served by a muumuu matron pretending to be my
mother. “Bring pepper,” Dadio scolds, swinging a
spoon to crack his shell.