Last Period
White washed walls and
Too bright light
Expo markers and limited sight
My attention flickers,
And my glasses go on-
Focus fails me once again.
Around the classroom objects lie,
And strewn so haphazardly,
They interest me
And with glazed eyes, I read
…The small warning on the window screen next to me:
An image of an oddly proportioned child falling out of a window
In front, the teacher stands
The marker she holds goes dancing away.
Quiz tomorrow she says, any questions today?
I know I should listen,
I know I should watch…
But my mind flickers and sways,
Taking me further and further away.
Outside the window, lurking just beyond the dusty screen,
The trees dance and sway,
Blown powerfully in the wind of this beautiful fall day.
Inside the room is blank, and her voice drones on and on…
The clock moves slowly, molasses in mud
And the hand struggles forward, progressing so slowly,
As if even time itself can’t focus on the task at hand
The air is dense and my muscles are sore from their restraint…
With nothing else to do, my eyes focus on a slowly peeling paint-
A toddler I twitch, unable to keep still
A fly buzzing, a thousand tunes running through,
My unrestrained thoughts.
Like a goldfish I look so quickly around
This hollow room
Each new object more exciting than the last.
And yet here she stands, looking right at me
An equation behind her, how bored can one be,
Before.
They.
Explode?
I know I should listen,
I know I should watch.
But yesterday I saw that God awful romance movie…
But last period I finished that test…
But tomorrow I’ll have rehearsal…
But today Glee is on, so much better than the rest…
And now I’m lost.
And yet,
Outside someone walks, their heels clicking with them
Behind her a freshman, with pants hung low
My eyes glaze, thinking of my brother at ho-
“Julianna” She says, and the room comes swimming back
“Please listen.”
I nod, resisting the urge to laugh…And ask how…
When it’s so beautiful outside that closed window.
A fly lands next to her at the board,
And with a,
Crack:
It dies by her hand.
And now I pick up my pencil, crushed, and finally listening
By her own demand.
