On the Floor of the English Wing

October 19, 2007
Tonight we played beer pong
By throwing empty Bud light can’s at Meg’s archaic Atari.
John stands in the corner whispering a vacant chant of cellar door, willing himself to be pleased.
Kyle’s face isn’t without pain as his fingers caresses the blank slate
rising in black majesty above his head.
Chalk dust showers his slate now full.
The sensory lights click off one million times;
Our Grief emits no radar.
Doubting Thomas cranes his neck towards the door’s lead trimmed window,
Sure he sees a tuft of white-gray hair
Click click click
Jill’s dagger pointed number two resounds, and sobbing joyfully, Mel begins to read.
You only taught us everything.
But here we won’t exalt you
Praise your insight
Bow before your patience;
This is our final exam.
I can’t quite recall the wisdom imparted just before
But I remember the radiator shrieked
And you congratulated the hunk of iron
On putting it so perfectly
Painting the wood when we didn’t know Jack
Handing us simple complexities
On a silver platter
With two Oreos each for dessert
You warned us our tests might take on any form
We’ve left this one on your desk, set beneath 13 apples
Glossy ruby sentries
Standing watch over
Our apostrophe

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