Watching him write on the blackboard
More green than black
I was struck by the deep blue of his shirt
And how crisp the lines were
Folded and ironed
More effort than I care to put into a shirt
And even though I was shivering
In the dark, hopeless blue of
My bulky winter jacket
Sitting in that empty chair
I slid out of the room in my mind
Recalling summer
The windows, now with canvas
Blinds half lowered
Would, instead of frost and condensation
Allow thick, all-encompassing heat
To slither into the room
Our shirts sticking to us
Sweat stains would mark up our
Clothes, like chalk on the blackboard
And our legs would
Stick to our plastic chairs as we
Stood at the end of class, reinvigorated
Voices raised in shared triumph of the overcome
Backpacks would be thrown over our
Shoulders wet and tan and flush with
Heat of the summer season, synonymous with
Hope. Our shorts and bright shirts made the
Room a deafening testament to our
Readiness
For the day.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Watching him write on the blackboard
More green than black
I was struck by the deep blue of his shirt
And how crisp the lines were
Folded and ironed
More effort than I care to put into a shirt
And even though I was shivering
In the dark, hopeless blue of
My bulky winter jacket
Sitting in that empty chair
I slid out of the room in my mind
Recalling summer
The windows, now with canvas
Blinds half lowered
Would, instead of frost and condensation
Allow thick, all-encompassing heat
To slither into the room
Our shirts sticking to us
Sweat stains would mark up our
Clothes, like chalk on the blackboard
And our legs would
Stick to our plastic chairs as we
Stood at the end of class, reinvigorated
Voices raised in shared triumph of the overcome
Backpacks would be thrown over our
Shoulders wet and tan and flush with
Heat of the summer season, synonymous with
Hope. Our shorts and bright shirts made the
Room a deafening testament to our
Readiness
For the day.