the light right now
as i kiss my girls goodnight?
it is unlike any other sunset,
the clouds a perfect concoction
of pink and gray,
and they hold tight to my neck
and beg me for stories of Medusa
that Silverstein told them about,
that i ad-lib with college knowledge.
i’m going to college,
they chime in,
three birds in a row,
so i can know as much as you
and they are my girls
through and through
education
Electrified Files
outspoken as always
he asks why i smile
she loves watching us work,
his classmate chimes in
(all teachers live for torture)
he has caught me in a moment
(one of many on this first day back)
where my available memory sits
on the forefront of my monitor
(the smile will never be far
from lips that can’t hide happiness)
(i will never tell him
i will tell almost no one)
the images i tuck in electrified files
at the base of my hard drive
ready to upload
a screensaver’s pleasure
at the smiling touch of a keyboard
8
you say eight is the magic number,
all the atoms crave its perfection
(was i born to study science,
the subject i so hated in school?)
i cried when i knew i wouldn’t be
a part of your class
(i begged her to change my schedule
and she made a small compromise)
i can’t say what it is
because it is too subtle to explain
(his words a blur of frustration
never trapped for them to see)
so the opposite of the smooth experience
that our students see every day
(a perfect partnership that takes
them, all of them, to a deeper understanding)
you say eight is the magic number–
the atoms exchange electrons
(to balance each other out,
to coexist in perfect harmony)
you see in me what i see in you
and it is not what anyone else sees
(and wrapped up in infinitesimal 8
the science becomes beautiful to me)
Threw, Through
we all know the words he angrily threw
were as sore as the punches he received
the same bitter words that he learned through you
yet through his blameless smile we were deceived
now you take your piece of technology
and throw blatant bitterness back at us
refuse to accept our apology
instead (like your child) make a giant fuss
you be the helicopter, us the grass
shove your way across the unknown landscape
bulldoze through until we are on our ass
force us into the place we can’t escape
someday you will rise up and see the view
of the ungrateful scene you choose to make
you will perceive the punches threw and through
we’ll be the ones who choose you to forsake
Gather Together
like animals preparing for winter,
we watch the daytime sky.
sun shines through early on
and we gather together stories,
hoarding them like acorns
along our hollow trunks,
our words heavy with hope
as clouds commence their cover.
we dart around on daily duties,
trapping warmth in our dens,
keeping track of small changes
in the ever-darkening air
as we keep our eyes on the sky,
our hearts open to impending flakes
that will magically make us happy
we are animals adhering to your laws,
bulking our bodies against
the winds that will blow it in,
forgiving its harshness
for the safe moments
where we will gather together
and watch a silent snowfall
bring in a new beginning.
Professionalism
she steps in on the conversation
that she would as easily hold in the hallway,
in the gym during an assembly,
in her office about other people
(handled as unprofessionally as possible)
but we are the ones being inappropriate?
are they listening through these walls?
what will they hear?
that we’re getting trampled on every day
by parents and students who’d rather blame us
than take responsibility?
is this even a poem
or a complaint about the truth of
why i’m so angry right now?
if they’re listening,
i’m quite sure their last concern
is some whiny-assed kid
who can’t handle getting the
reality of his life handed to him,
backed by parents who won’t admit
they have a teenager, not a toddler,
who needs to pulls his lips
off his mama’s nipple
and move the fuck into adulthood.
but that’s just it.
they’re not listening.
nor is she,
though she can cut short this talk,
throw in a quick critique,
and act like her mouth is the
perfect picture of professionalism
Midday
i carried three coffees
into work.
it was midday.
i had to walk around front,
give the guard a sheepish grin
(did he know i didn’t sign out,
that i just drove sixty miles
to drop off a test? did it matter?)
snow came down in flustered flurries,
sticky and wet on grimy windshield,
not enough to slow me down or make me smile
i was rushed and i was right
as i stood waiting
for incompetency to finish
erasing errant bubbles on
directions she didn’t listen to
i placed the drinks on desks,
was handed back tearful smiles
that carried my squeaky heels
down the hallway
to the next moment of time
that would not be mine,
that would never be mine,
and it didn’t matter–
i’d made one small part of the day
a bit more bearable.
Hassle
set your alarm and get your ass out of bed
you’re giving me a gigantic pain in the head
if you knew what a hassle you’ve made me
maybe you wouldn’t have disobeyed me
now you and i get a specialty treat
of testing together–wait till we meet
two hours of torture and pure misery
all because you are so fucking lazy
Sublimation
so icily cold it will burn off your skin
CO^2 bubbles over from beaker to tin
it skips a phase, a miracle of matter
one moment solid, one moment the latter
i wish i could take off the gloves that protect
run my fingers over this offbeat object
but i must stand aside as the gas seeps out
subliming my liquid, it fills me with doubt
i will never quite understand science eight
when i took it last i’d too much on my plate
now it is beautiful in this novel light
depose and sublime, our matter takes flight
Stroke
you take a grain of salt
and multiply
until you have a float-worthy sea
impossible to cross,
and as you attempt to swim,
those around you drown,
but you won’t reach out,
you won’t bail them as they flail,
you will only look forward,
head bent,
arms pumping through water,
breath escaping from your bitter lungs
as you splash under the sun
of the tomorrow that
you take from them
with every scathing stroke.
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