A child in a classroom
breaks a pencil
There is a simple solution
to sharpen it

The rest of the students 
work silently
The teacher at her desk
wouldn’t say a word

But the child sits
as if she was stuck
in a trough of
the liquid white glue
that sat on the classroom shleves

She sees half of the possibilities
The ones in which
she would feel the pit 
in her stomach
the heat in her face
the tears in her eyes