Antithesis by Orla Simpson

No man will stand on a wooden plank

Carved by my father

One of the few hobbies he indulges in

Unlike me


The smell of sawdust and sweat

Evokes a kind of familiarity I never received

But will never recover from.

That’s what family is for.


I bound dirt to my hair

it left a stain

so dark I couldn’t even recognize my mother’s eyes


My sister and I,

Both brown eyed

Renewed a reason he could never be family



Orla Simpson is a student at Durham School of the Arts. She has been published in her school’s literary magazine. She also wrote and helped produce a play through her school’s theater program. She enjoys writing poetry and playing frisbee.