Returning To The Tomb

Each time I read the one about the tomb

For kids who know the "they fuck you up" one

A stationary moment in the room

Voyages me back to when I was that young

Not the same classroom, but with desks and chairs

And clock and windows not that unalike

And me the pupil focusing, who stares

Up at the teacher's hand with pen that writes

A quote up on the sepulchral ghost white sheet

Black marks about the doubt of what survives

And in their eyes my younger eyes I meet

As if I'm somehow caught up in their lives

As I myself was caught up with her's then

The small bright woman who I love, again.