AP English Literature and Composition Quiz: How Text Reveals Character Poetry

Read the following poem:

"At the Open House" I arrive early, as always, so my shoes can learn the hallway. The teacher's desk is a small country ruled by paperclips and sharpened pencils. My son's name sits on a cubby in letters I practiced at home, as if my hand could tutor his future. Other parents lean in bright clusters, laughing like they belong to daylight. I read the posters twice, pretend I am deciding which one I like. When the teacher says, "Any questions?" my mouth fills with pennies. I nod, grateful for the nod's silence, then smooth my coat as if it were him.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by the line "my mouth fills with pennies"?

Read the following poem:

"Voice Mail" Your message arrives at 2:13 a.m., a thin blue light in my palm. You say my name the old way, round as a coin you used to flip. Behind your words I hear dishes, a television laughing at something. You ask if I'm eating enough. I stare at the ceiling fan turning its slow, indifferent weather. I could call back. Instead I delete the message, then keep the phone in my hand like a stone I'm learning to skip.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "I delete the message, / then keep the phone in my hand"?

Read the following poem:

"Family Recipe" My aunt dictates over speakerphone, her voice sizzling with certainty: "Two cloves, not three. You'll ruin it." I stand at my own stove stirring a pot that smells like childhood and also like compromise. When I add the extra clove I do it quietly, as if rebellion must be minced. Later, I taste the sauce and tell her it's perfect. The lie sits on my tongue like a bay leaf I forgot to remove.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "as if rebellion must be minced"?

Read the following poem:

"Dentist" The hygienist tilts my chair back like launching a small boat. A bright lamp interrogates my mouth; I open as if confessing. She asks about flossing. I lie with my gums. In the suction's steady slurp I hear my father's disapproval, that old metronome. When she says "good job," I almost cry from the kindness of being graded on something simple.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "I almost cry from the kindness / of being graded on something simple"?

Read the following poem:

"On Hold" A recorded voice thanks me for my patience, which is new. The same piano loop keeps opening and closing its hands. I fold laundry with one arm, press the phone to my ear until it warms like a small animal. Somewhere, a stranger has my account pulled up like a chart of my mistakes. When a human finally answers, I say "Hello" too brightly, as if politeness could refund time.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "as if politeness could refund time"?

Read the following poem:

"At the Wedding" I pin the corsage to my dress and feel like I'm fastening myself into someone else's celebration. The bride glows in practiced light; photographers herd her smiles. At my table, strangers toast with stories that don't include me. When the slow song begins, couples knit together. I clap at the right moments, my hands two polite birds. In the bathroom, I check my lipstick as if color could make me wanted.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "my hands two polite birds"?

Read the following poem:

"Morning Run" I jog past houses with lawns combed flat. Sprinklers hiss like gossip. My breath comes in ragged receipts, proof I spent myself. A dog barks from behind a fence, furious at my moving. At the corner, I slow, pretend to tie my shoe, so no one sees how close I am to stopping.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "My breath comes in ragged receipts"?

Read the following poem:

"Office Plant" They put a pothos on my desk because "it brightens things up." Its vines reach toward my monitor, greedy for the blue glow. I water it on Fridays, measuring ounces like mercy. When a leaf yellows, I apologize under my breath. The plant doesn't forgive; it simply continues in its quiet, green insistence. Sometimes I envy how it asks for what it needs without explaining.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "measuring ounces like mercy"?

Read the following poem:

"Choir Practice" The director says, "Breathe together," and forty chests obey. I mouth the Latin like a borrowed prayer. Beside me, Ms. Alvarez hits every note as if she's hammering nails into a sturdy life. When we reach the amen, my voice thins, a thread I'm afraid to pull. Afterward, people chat about potlucks and parking. I smile, tuck my music under my arm like a secret book.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "I mouth the Latin / like a borrowed prayer"?

Read the following poem:

"Night Drive" The highway unspools its dark ribbon under my headlights. I keep the radio low, as if sound might wake the past sleeping in the passenger seat. At red lights, I watch my hands resting on the wheel— ten and two, obedient. I pass the exit for your town without turning. My stomach loosens, then tightens again, a fist that can't decide.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "as if sound might wake the past / sleeping in the passenger seat"?

Read the following poem:

"Bus Stop" The shelter smells of wet wool and yesterday's fast food. A man hums through missing teeth, making music out of waiting. I check the schedule app every minute, as if certainty could be summoned by refresh. When the bus finally appears, its headlights rinse the street. I step forward, then hesitate— my reflection in the glass already seated, already leaving.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "as if certainty / could be summoned by refresh"?

Read the following poem:

"Thrift Store Suit" The jacket smells like someone else's cologne and a decade of weddings. I tug the sleeves down, trying to convince my wrists they belong to success. The mirror shows a man borrowed from a better life. At the register, the clerk says, "Big day?" I say, "Interview," and hear my voice crack like cheap plastic. Outside, I keep the receipt in my pocket like a passport.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "trying to convince my wrists / they belong to success"?

Read the following poem:

"Therapy Homework" My counselor asks me to list three things I can control. I write: my breath, my shoes, the angle of my smile. At home, I tape the paper to the fridge beside coupons and a magnet shaped like Florida. Every time I reach for milk the list stares back, patient as a dog. I add a fourth thing in pencil: whether I forgive myself today. The pencil breaks.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "The pencil breaks" after the added fourth item?

Read the following poem:

"Gym Membership" The salesperson smiles with teeth like a showroom. She says, "Commit to yourself," and slides the contract over as if it's a menu. I sign, my pen skating on paper too glossy to trust. In the locker room, mirrors multiply my doubt. I lift a dumbbell once, feel my arm shake— a small flag of surrender. Still, I swipe my card on the way out, wanting the beep to mean belief.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "wanting the beep to mean belief"?

Read the following poem:

"Garden Plot" The community garden assigns me Plot 17B, a rectangle of stubborn dirt. The coordinator hands me seeds as if they are tiny promises that don't require witnesses. I kneel, press each one down, covering them like secrets. Around me, neighbors talk about compost, about rain barrels, about the right way to wait. I nod like I know patience. At home, my windowsill basil leans toward the light with a hunger I recognize.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "covering them like secrets"?

Read the following poem:

"After the Auction" They lifted my grandmother's table as if it were a bride, carried it past the porch where she shelled peas. I stood in the yard with a bidder's number I never raised. The auctioneer's chant was a river that wouldn't stop talking. When the china went, I watched light hit the plates—brief moons no one would ever eat from again. A man in a red cap asked if I was "family." I said yes, but it sounded like a receipt. Later, I pocketed a single spoon because my hand needed proof.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "I said yes, but it sounded like a receipt"?

Read the following poem:

"The Donor Wall" My father's name is not there. We walk the hospital corridor past bronze plaques that shine like polished throats. He tells me, softly, to keep my voice down, as if money sleeps behind the glass. A nurse pushes a cart of linens, white as unasked-for advice. In the lobby, a fountain rehearses the same small surrender. He drops a crumpled bill into the charity box anyway, then wipes his hands as though generosity leaves dust.

Which inference about the father is best supported by "as though generosity leaves dust"?

Read the following poem:

"The Apology Email" I draft it three times, subject line changing like weather. "Following up" feels too sharp. "Just checking in" feels like begging. I delete exclamation points as if they are fingerprints. In the body, I write: I'm sorry for any inconvenience. The phrase tastes pre-owned. Before hitting send, I reread my name at the bottom— a small animal waiting to be judged.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "I delete exclamation points / as if they are fingerprints"?

Read the following poem:

"Inventory" I sign my name where the clip board shines, under fluorescents that bleach the hour. They call it "processing"—as if grief could be stacked like cartons, barcoded, shelved. My sister's shoes arrive in a clear bag, laces knotted the way she did when hurrying. I count the quarters in her coat pocket, not because I want them—because the form has a box that hates being left blank. The officer watches my pen like a weapon. I write smaller, obedient. Outside, the vending machine hums its gospel; I buy coffee I will not drink. When they ask if I can "identify," I nod at the word, not the body. In the mirror of the hallway window my face looks like a photocopy someone ran too many times.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by the poem's details, particularly "the form / has a box that hates being left blank"?

Read the following poem:

"Museum Guard" All day I stand beside the seascape that never dries. Tourists drift in, tide after tide, whispering like they're in church. A child points at the painted storm and asks if it's real. I want to say: it can't hurt you. Instead I clear my throat and practice my official smile. At lunch I eat in the stairwell where no one looks at the art. My badge presses my shirt like a thumb reminding me what I'm here for.

Which inference about the speaker is best supported by "My badge presses my shirt / like a thumb reminding me"?