a boy called peaches.

contained in a shoebox
there are lots of little things
scraps of paper, dime store rings
and a boy called Peaches.

Peaches plays with matches.
Peaches rides the bus to school.
Peaches cannot read,
but he knows he’s not a fool.

there is something to be said
for hating what you do not understand.
Peaches, he struck one of those matches,
and books were ablaze with the flick of his hand.

Peaches hates reading.
Peaches loves Bailey Sue.
the way her pigtails curl.
and her smile lacking 32.

Peaches took a picture of himself,
so dapper, but looking dead.
he always knew to hide himself away,
so the Polaroid was shoved under his bed.

Peaches plays with matches.
Peaches rides the bus to school.
Peaches cannot read,
but he knows he’s not a fool.

the boy called Peaches skips class
if they read at all that day.
if they do it one more time,
he swears he’ll make them pay.

Peaches plays with matches.
Peaches rides the bus to school.
Peaches cannot read,
but he knows he’s not a fool.

Peaches hates reading.
Peaches loves Bailey Sue.
the way her pigtails curl.
and her smile lacking 32.

at school it was literacy day.
and Peaches didn’t forget.
he packed something besides his lunch.
he swore to make them feel regret.

Peaches plays with matches.
Peaches rides the bus to school.
Peaches cannot read,
but he knows he’s not a fool.

Peaches walks in late to class,
and pulls out his father’s gun.
he started to shoot and blocked the door.
so that they couldn’t run.

Peaches hates reading.
Peaches loves Bailey Sue.
the way her pigtails curl.
and her smile lacking 32.

everyone was screaming
while he did what he knew to do
Peaches cocked his pistol,
and found it locked on Bailey Sue.

Peaches plays with matches.
Peaches rides the bus to school.
Peaches cannot read,
but he knows he’s not a fool.

Bailey Sue feels the tears
that are pouring from her eyes.
her age hasn’t filled up two hands yet
and she doesn’t want to die.

Peaches’ eyes were squeezed shut tight
as Bailey Sue’s smile lost a few more teeth.
everyone was dead and he saw was he had done.
and for the first time,
the boy called Peaches felt something called grief.

that day, Peaches lit his last match.
he clutched a book that clutched at flames.
he’s now a picture in a shoebox under the bed.
but really, who is to blame?

Peaches played with matches.
Peaches rode the bus to school.
Peaches never could read,
and Peaches died a fool.