The highway unravels
between the mountains,
settling into the land’s
deep grooves. Pennsylvania
is cold this time of year, grey.

We skirt the mountain’s curve
and a valley blossoms
around the wide dark river.
Rows of trees ripple
brown under the grey sky.
Red leaves like schools of fish
float through the water.

I remember, once, on an October afternoon
I feed geese with my mother
and brother.
She tore soft white bread
with quick fingers
and gave us Oreos
to eat.
But I wanted
to eat the bread
from my plastic bag,
a piece for the geese and
a piece for me.

When the bag was empty,
the geese honked
with insistent black eyes,
long necks bobbing,
webbed toes inching closer
and closer to my sneakers
through the leaves.

I would tell them, now,
hunger is all a matter
of perspective.
But then I just ran away
to my mother and twisted
the halves of an Oreo
so I could lick
the icing.
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Welcome to Problem Child

Problem Child offers an alternative medium for publication of poetry, prose, artwork, essays, and other creative media by semi-annually publishing the Problem Child Literary Magazine. Problem Child aims to publish and promote individual original thought by creating and hosting a creative community.