Fly on the Wall: Monika

By: Adam Sutton

“I talked to your mom about your book choice.  She was a little worried. She said you read a book that you didn’t like in school last year.”

“Kinda.  It was a poem.”

“What poem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who wrote it?”

Monika shrugged.  “I’ve got it still.  I can bring it to you.” 

“Monika, did you bring that poem?” Ms. Smith asked. 

“I forgot.”

“What made you keep it if you didn’t like it?”

“I never read something I hated as much.  My mom says it was insensitive.  She said culturally insensitive.  The teacher shouldn’t have showed it to me.” 

Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop

– Strange Fruit written by Abel Meeropol

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