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