Again
an A
beside your name.
Nine boxes for nine days.
Six A’s.
You, with that great brain,
want A’s
on your transcript
not your attendance record.
What is happening in your world
that keeps you from learning?
Ties shackles to your potential
for excellence? Your health is fine.
Oh, dear girl,
What can we do
to advocate for you?
Hey, he says.
Hey, she says. You’re on speaker. What’s up?
Where are you?
Thirty minutes from home. Is everything okay?
Yeah. I was just missing you and wondering
when you’d be home.
Soon.
All right. See you…soon. I’m on speaker?
Yup.
Oh. Bye, then.
.
.
.
A little found poem, overheard.
twelve
one
two
three
o’clock.
This hotel room is absent of you,
No lovers’ talk,
just me,
myself,
and seven o’clock is coming far
too soon.
How strange
that the lack of something
weighs more greatly
than its presence.
You’re too far.
It doesn’t matter that it’s only a day.
I feel bereft without my back up.
Knowing you’re at my back
is my security,
against myself.
Don’t be far
for long.
The welcome words
happy greetings,
shrieks and engulfing hugs,
cool nods,
teasing jokes.
Everywhere I turn
delight.
It is nice to be missed,
but nicer to be back.
.
.
.
(First day back to work after breaking my ankle. Staff and students made me feel a bit like a rock star this morning with their enthusiasm.)
Shawn L. Bird 