What You Ask For

They scattered us, and I embraced

the hammer blows that webbed

cracks

through our frame.

I thought we were a wagon wheel

spinning on

an endless muddy groove.

I relished

the break.

The restart was a white knuckle

cling

to a metal edge that

cut

into my fingers.

Blind.

I went unseeing into the tumult

and 24 desks pressed too close,

gave no room to breathe.

I thought –

my career will

die

in this

coffin classroom.

I miss them now,

our quilt unwoven.

We are pieces – bleeding

at our

seams.

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One thought on “What You Ask For

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