I’M TRYING NOT TO FALL ASLEEP –
MATH CLASS = boy with ink-black hair,
girl shaping poetry in her hands,
A class of students struggling to understand.
WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?
we are a mess of confusion & I fold in on myself,
trace a heart on a folding chair collapsed against the wall;
the internet tells me people are dying,
(THIS IS A DIGITAL AGE)
my heart aches, I hate sitting here crunching numbers.
the world is crashing & burning,
and i am lurching toward an unsteady future.
I didn’t think it would end like this,
blood splattered on the screen of my iPhone.
CAN WE MOVE ON NOW? PLEASE?
Our teacher is tired of discussing the same topic,
she looks exhausted, hair spilling down the small of her back.
I tell her I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND &
the crescent moons beneath her eyes deepen –
she reminds me of my mother, hugging herself
in the dawn light, wiping the dust off a suitcase and
without meaning to, I am putting my arms around her,
asking if she is okay (I don’t remember her answer).
I wake up as class ends, the boy tells me I fell asleep
on the couch like he understands the weightlessness
I craved. He also says I got an A on the math test.