The North Carolina Poetry Society, Inc.
Student Poets

October, 1999

I Live in a Junkyard ©
by Stephen Carlson

I live in a junkyard;
I clean it my best.
But it always ends up
Looking like a mess.

I live in a junkyard;
It’s full of great grief
There’s never a bush there,
Not even a leaf.

I live in a junkyard,
And what have I found?
I found my white sock,
Except now it’s brown.

I live in a junkyard,
And I’m full of gloom.
For as you can see,
The junkyard’s my room.

Originally published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
"Award Winning Poems, 1999"
Used with permission of the Poet.