General Torpor in Physics Recitation

The only colliding particles we see today

are the yellow ones that fly

from the filing of your chalk piece -

The room is hazed with them.

They enter our ears

and clog our cochleas,

muffling the monotony of your lesson.

Stains form on our skin

and drain our facial glow,

replacing it with a jaundiced tint -

We want to recover

But our bodies can't accept anything

save for the soporific tone of your questions.

That's why you hear

a deep-breathing drone

from the back of the room

cascading now

to the front row:

We're answering you

in our REM sleep -

please don't

ignore our silent

somniloquies.

Severance

When our hands locked,

even the ridges and grooves

of our fingerprints

would complement each other -

whorls of mine would anchor

to loops of yours and bring our

life lines so close together that

they'd forget which palm they belonged to.

When our gazes touched,

the lids of our eyes

would save us -

soft skin would form a shingled roof

shielding us from life's hails and bolts

and soon we would be surrounded

by walls of sod and silk

that (somehow) nothing could penetrate.

When our smiles spoke,

the lines on our lips

would murmur riddles

without answers -

riddles like, "what can topple the very thing that

an earthquake cannot shake?"

or "what can burn like lava

and leave no blistering trace?"

I think I know the answers now,

as I watch you pack your bags,

and sling on your rifle

over your camouflage uniform.

I think you know the answers too

as you see my hands tremble

while I try to wipe the dust

off your combat training boots.