~ Delta Poetry Review ~

S. F. Wright

Drew

He was nineteen

When he was in

My homeroom,

Having been left back.

Still,

Or because

Of that,

He was one of the most

Charismatic students

In that class:

Always smiling,

Joking around—

Not the brightest kid,

But so what.

He might’ve

Gone to college

And dropped out,

I’m not sure;

But a year or so

After he graduated,

He began working

On our school’s

Custodial crew,

And once in a while,

He’d pop into my room,

Ask how things

Were going,

Say something about

How much he liked

Our homeroom,

And be on his way.

For a while then,

I didn’t see him,

And though I didn’t

Think much of him,

When I did,

I assumed that

He got a new job

Or went back to school.

But then I saw him

Last year,

Pushing a bin

Past my classroom

One day after

Classes got out;

And I said,

Long time no see,

Asked how he was

Doing.

He seemed tired,

Older;

Said that he worked

On the other side of

The building now

And was over here

To help move furniture

Out of a classroom.

He made no mention

Of our homeroom,

Nor did I,

And when he went

On his way,

Pushing the bin,

I thought

That there was

Some type of lesson here,

But couldn’t,

Or didn’t want to,

Figure out

What.

S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, and Elm Leaves Journal, among other places. His short story collection, The English Teacher, is forthcoming from Cerasus Poetry, and his website is sfwrightwriter.com. Email: sfwright79@yahoo.com