Tasha Beauchesne is from the United States. She is entering the final year of university and is working towards a career in the publishing industry. She says of the poem "Geology" below that "it was the product of a deceptively simple prompt in a creative writing class: write about childhood. Memories of growing up with my childhood best friend in Massachusetts formed the basis for this poem."
Geology
The rock in your front yard was a boulder,
an asteroid,
a remnant from when dinosaurs
(or maybe aliens)
ruled the world.
Our heads bumping the sky,
we would survey the pavement,
swinging our bruised summer-sunned legs,
imagining we sat at the edge of the earth.
The evening August sun winked behind the mountains,
sparkling on the hood of your dad’s parked car,
lighting the scuffed wheels of our Razor scooters
lying haphazardly in the grass.
We waited for the explorers and scientists
with flimsy brushes and microscopes
to show up and declare our rock a wonder.
With the six o’clock news glowing purple in your living room,
your mom called us back inside.
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