Summer, School Silent have fallen the locker-loud halls. Half the lockers, if you were to pull them, You’d find were open. In the rush to leave, They didn’t bother locking emptiness, Unaware of its limitless value, How often the world tries to fill it. The classrooms are dark. The ghosts of students Who grew up, grew old, died, and decided To return to this place to relearn all They’ve forgotten sit quietly at desks Waiting for class to begin. From time to Time the janitor sweeps through. He senses a presence that he believes To be the lingering presence of girls He nursed crushes on. Their summer freckles Abiding into autumn, their blonde hair Darkening through winter. There are faint words On the green board, written by a man who Knew the kids behind him weren’t paying Attention, and didn’t much care, because As he was talking about Manifest Destiny he was thinking of the howls Of wolves outside his cabin in the north Woods of Minnesota. The janitor Moves onto the labs with their deep stained sinks, Formica counters, beakers and test tubes Dim at the bottom with precipitants, Piquant with the odor of chemicals. He picks up a book on anatomy, Lets his eyes fall on the illustrations, Feels a thrill in remembering that all This is contained within him — cathedrals Of bones, forests of nerves, deltas of blood. Two floors below him, in the front office, The secretary is holding her breath As she paints her nails with her weak hand. The nurse has no one to nurse and, bored, takes Her temperature herself. The principal Is at her place on the lake, day drinking. The gym is empty and bright, the new nets Scrunched up like scrotums. A few kids linger At the east entrance, waiting for their turn To drive the instructor around the town. They’ve been looking forward to being free Of mothers, of older sisters who drive Them disdainfully where they need to go. Above it all hangs the bell, the same bell That summoned and released students long gone. Come fall it will ring again, and kids who Have been given combinations will find Something they thought would be locked is open.
Summer, School
Summer, School
Summer, School
Summer, School Silent have fallen the locker-loud halls. Half the lockers, if you were to pull them, You’d find were open. In the rush to leave, They didn’t bother locking emptiness, Unaware of its limitless value, How often the world tries to fill it. The classrooms are dark. The ghosts of students Who grew up, grew old, died, and decided To return to this place to relearn all They’ve forgotten sit quietly at desks Waiting for class to begin. From time to Time the janitor sweeps through. He senses a presence that he believes To be the lingering presence of girls He nursed crushes on. Their summer freckles Abiding into autumn, their blonde hair Darkening through winter. There are faint words On the green board, written by a man who Knew the kids behind him weren’t paying Attention, and didn’t much care, because As he was talking about Manifest Destiny he was thinking of the howls Of wolves outside his cabin in the north Woods of Minnesota. The janitor Moves onto the labs with their deep stained sinks, Formica counters, beakers and test tubes Dim at the bottom with precipitants, Piquant with the odor of chemicals. He picks up a book on anatomy, Lets his eyes fall on the illustrations, Feels a thrill in remembering that all This is contained within him — cathedrals Of bones, forests of nerves, deltas of blood. Two floors below him, in the front office, The secretary is holding her breath As she paints her nails with her weak hand. The nurse has no one to nurse and, bored, takes Her temperature herself. The principal Is at her place on the lake, day drinking. The gym is empty and bright, the new nets Scrunched up like scrotums. A few kids linger At the east entrance, waiting for their turn To drive the instructor around the town. They’ve been looking forward to being free Of mothers, of older sisters who drive Them disdainfully where they need to go. Above it all hangs the bell, the same bell That summoned and released students long gone. Come fall it will ring again, and kids who Have been given combinations will find Something they thought would be locked is open.