Chavo laughed. “You think you get a vote?”
But Brock Kniles had a secret.
He never wrote another sonnet. But every once in a while, during yard time, a new fish would approach him with a crumpled page and a question. And Brock Kniles, the failed fortress, would read their clumsy verses with a rust-colored gaze and say, quietly: “Change this word. It’s a good start. But the world’s kiss is indifferent. Make sure it hurts.”
Chavo laughed. “You think you get a vote?”
But Brock Kniles had a secret.
He never wrote another sonnet. But every once in a while, during yard time, a new fish would approach him with a crumpled page and a question. And Brock Kniles, the failed fortress, would read their clumsy verses with a rust-colored gaze and say, quietly: “Change this word. It’s a good start. But the world’s kiss is indifferent. Make sure it hurts.”
