The hallway is an empty
riverbed, smooth and barren.
At three o’clock classroom

doors open like dams.
      Gullies of teens stream
out, to become one
      flowing body.  A torrent
of fauxhawks and ponytails
      channels along the linoleum.

The drowned boy floats along

just below the surface,
      caught in an undercurrent,
bobbing past the

      sightless stares of teachers.

He bumps into lockers, is
            scraped along concrete walls,
swirled in and out of bathroom stalls,

      whirled past indifferent
          pools of preoccupation
               to be swept out in a current

               of apathy and oversight
      into a sea of needles

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: