in these halls…
there are boys who open doors for
no thanks and spare smiles and
girls who can run for miles and miles whose
eyes are the little blue pills that
taste bitterly of freedom and the release
of expectation.
in these rooms…
there are teachers whose lectures
fall and shatter and pierce and rattle
and there are deaf ears.
in this school…
there is laughter and left backpacks
dropped to-do lists
pick-up games of
admission and rejection.
there are heavy eyelids and dreaming children and
there are a hundred young atlases
each with the world on their back.
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