scream all the little darlings in the classroom,
shepherded by the people watching the teachers.
Indeed, malevolence battens down the windows,
unsettling the terrarium iguanas and the lone hamster—
Charles—though the children call him Charlie.
Teacher tries to reassure the class—all things end,
children, and we’ll screech and bellywhoop
in the playground soon enough. Samantha,
ringlet bitch of the third grade class, experiences
what she would call in later years awareness
that she will end too, perhaps closer to the rain
than she had thought. The teacher watchers
note the nimbus of light emanating from her,
its deviation from the norm, its waste of classtime.