Thursday, April 19, 2012

Blackboard

Nine Eleven in Room Three Zero One

Adam Shepard looked at me – a fresh man,
His ebony skin still smooth, free of scars and tattoos –
Jejune eyes broad – mouth slack in excited fright.
His small frame had carried the weight of five
Firemen into my classroom since day one.
“It just fell.  It’s just gone.”

My own eyes had been somewhere else –
Processing what had begun as another day
In the bubble of the first classroom I could call
Mine.  Looking at the grade book, attempting to
Understand how those numbers translated into
Students. Reading the date I had written on the chalkboard
That morning.  Wandering out the horizontal window,
Away from that moment.  Anywhere but here.

I do know my eyes were not on the small
Box, perched like a caged yellow bird in the corner of the
Room.  I shuddered and wondered if I should turn it off.
Now a familiar picture to us all, as
The first building fell, dust flew up, like clapping
Blackboard erasers.  Nothing seemed in synch. 

The whole world knew more than we did.  And the whole
World knows more than we did.

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