the way they enter
my classroom tells me this class
will be difficult.

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you pull and choke down
the sidewalk, shaming me as
i follow, distraught.

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it seems we can't pet
you enough, or walk you as
much as you would want.

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on your eighth birthday
we sang to you and your cake,
your eyes sparkled joy.

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ink shows the lines where
they radiate around the
moon, a white circle.

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writing their names on
copied paper, squares will show
the tables and seats.

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there is no time for
syllables right now, my days
too busy for this.

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my body aches from the
stress of this week, spine tightened
with fast weariness.

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i thought i wanted
the limelight, but opened my
mouth to foolishness.

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this last day of rest
before i return to a
busy schedule.

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