Sunday Newspapers

This first line really works to draw me in, and as I read through the rest of the poem, the hunger becomes more apparent. It is that insatiable ghost of age. Andrew De Haan, age 22

What hunger stirs us in the dark
as we deliver newspapers on Sunday

Very interesting way to begin this poem. “Hunger” was a nice surprise because I could think of other words to describe a paper route. But “hunger” could mean so many different things and I really like that. Maybe literal hunger for food, or maybe for sleep, or even the closeness of a significant other. I also love how the poem begins in the dark and we can feel that early morning darkness throughout the poem. Samantha Mikita, age 19

and our sons sleep back home,
my wife across the street more Italian

each day in her roundness.
We walk with ghosts in the morning,

The image of walking with ghosts in the early morning is an interesting way of describing the foggy stillness of the morning, when most are still asleep and the world seems a ghost town. Kara Madden, age 22

What a great way to describe the early morning. The thin, barely awake, lonely feeling is so familiar. Rachel Talen, age 21

This makes so much sense to me! Everyone in the morning is still so sleepy and not really with reality yet, so I can really see how they are like ghosts! Another great way to add to the slight eeriness of this poem. Samantha Mikita, age 20

like Mr. Minghella, who waits in his bathrobe
for his weekend paper.

The moon in its language of bone
dissolves into a poem.

This line is just beautiful! “Language of bone” sounds much better than something like “the moon is white like a bone”. How is dissolves into a poem, is very magical. Samantha Mikita, age 19

How we hang papers in the right places,
like batons balanced on hooks

I like the above comparison (simile) Hannah Fleming, age 15

for those hands to grasp them
in their long distance run.

The lines above really brings us back to actually delivering the papers and it’s a great image! I could picture a paper in a bush or a mailbox when I read this line. A very clear and crisp line. Samantha Mikita, age 19

Marriage sinks into those late years
of love, as her body accepts her age

I like this line above because it tells us the poem is about more than just delivering papers. Samantha Mikita, age 19

and I deliver someone else’s newspaper—
and jam it into a mail slot.

The next house around the corner
I rattle the mailbox barely hanging

in its honest intentions
as our silence, that pickpocket,

Silence as a pickpocket is an idea that's original and fresh and seems at once to be true. Patty Schlutt, age 15

leaves us ghostlike somehow
without ever dying.

It's intriguing that ghosts are introduced back into the poem as a description. Patty Schlutt, age 15

I like the recurring image of ghosts. Here the speaker compares himself and his wife to ghosts, moving without ever dying. through the motions without speaking, sharing the silence of the morning. This image is a bit melancholy as it leaves the reader wondering about the happiness of the couple, who share chores but not conversation. Kara Madden, age 22

Russell Thorburn

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