School—12:15

Imagine the lunchroom,
crowded and wary—
seating charts a welcome apprehension.

Loose-leaf
papers spiraled from
ballpoint-scratched notebook covers
until the last hour,
when a teacher
sighed and sighed.

Today, we close our backpacks,
but minutes
come quick and quit
the ease of dawn.
More Poems by Tina Boyer Brown