Philip took the sixth grade over again
and he knew the teacher in a friendly, offset way.

On cold November evenings only he
would walk through the cotton forest

There was something wrong with Philip
those of us few could tell he had become sideways

Philip would give you his lunch if you asked
we could see he kept a turtle in his desk

We all grew new bodies one day and moved to
junior high school;  Philip was not with us

Our new biology teacher said children
are not allowed to attend funerals

Grace and I made a cross from Popsicle sticks
and stuck it in the dirt where we had been playing.