Student Publishing Program ::

Sam C.

Staple Remover

You sit there, waiting for your prey.
Your gaping mouth,
Locked in that never-ending snarl.
Staring forward, your four teeth flickering in the faint light,
The metallic gleam of your fangs,
Cold to the touch, ready to tear metal apart,
You sit.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]