waiting for the bell to ring

if a woman, or a man

a dog and a cat

can be coaxed by the voice of an impatient brat

 

I think that time would be more compliant if I

were to whisper some niceties, all of them lies

 

If I said to the minute hand

“move forward with haste”

its second sibling would put no time to waste

 

they’d chase each other, round the face of the clock

teasing the students who wish it would stop

 

although most of the kids tapping away at their desks

would much rather hear the bell ring, at best

 

staccato beats being drummed on the surface of the wood

by the loner in the back hiding underneath his hood

 

the not so stunning,

not so bright

won’t speak up

‘but, hey,  she might’ girl

hunches over in her seat

behind a curtain of long, dark curls

 

the second hand approaches the top of its peak

only seniors get to go but all are poised to leave

 

when the bell finally sounds

it is anything but loud

for the ringing has been muffled by misplaced anticipation

and suddenly freedom has scared them into patience

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