The Class

By John Grey

Large and small, dumb and smart,

emphatic strides, indifferent straggle –

the classroom fills.

Some heads stare eagerly at the blackboard,

others twist, bob, whisper.

A few are clear about what they want.

Most are attuned to getting by as best they can.

The dunces wonder what they’re doing there.

The teacher stands up front,

looks over a mix of faces –

curious and blank, confident and confused.

He imagines carrying water in a sieve,

fetching fire in a bucket,

making a rope of ashes.

Then he opens a book.

John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S. resident. Recently published in Examined Life Journal, Evening Street Review and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Harpur Palate, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.