from the rwp prompt 98 whee! and  photo

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the red pull of the fire alarm
It’s too cold in this room
I’m afraid I had no time to shave
I’m  afraid I haven’t studied,
that the writing will kill me,
that no one said to wear pants

the red pull of the fire alarm
you should have told me
there is never a pointed response
when answers are most needed
never a desk, hole, cave dark enough to crawl beneath
you should have told me
there is never a number 2

the red pull of the fire alarm
staring blankly at the door
the flat brown door across the hall
i realize a panicked hope
the answer is there
I’ve erased everything on the page
I can act my way out of this scene

the red pull of the fire alarm
I’m afraid
I haven’t studied
and now the instructior looks at me suspiciously
I haven’t studied
so I return the glare with an upturned eyebrow
I haven’t studied
and dig furiously in my Patchwork Fossil purse
where are the freshly-painted cardboard rocks
the answer is there but it is too red

the red pull of the fire alarm

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TEST

But I haven’t studied
You should have told me
to wear pants in the classroom.
This conditioned air raises the hairs
I didn’t have time to shave. Where are
sets, freshly-painted cardboard rocks
Maybe I can act my way out of this scene
or maybe the writing will kill me. And now
the instructor looks at me suspiciously
so I return the glare with an upturned eyebrow and
dig furiously in my Patchwork Fossil purse for a pencil.
there is never a number 2. there is never a pointed
response when the answers are most needed
never a desk, hole, cave, dark enough to crawl beneath
and I realize, ten minutes too late that I’ve inadvertently
erased everything on the page.
staring blankly toward the door, the answer suddenly appears
beside the flat brown door across the hall, the red pull of the fire alarm
a panicked hope, sly glaze of eye disbelieving…
Yes, the answer is there, but it’s too red — I’m afraid –
and it’s too cold in this room.

Put to Bed

She wiggled her toes to make the bed warm.
Four thick quilts barely moved.
She wondered if her breath still fogged
now that the light had gotten tired and gone to sleep
so she couldn’t even see her nose
and there was only fuzzy dark in corners
and almost-moving shadow bears.
The big bear was the dresser
where her grandmother kept pieces to make more quilts
and the other one was just her coat
hanging on the chair.
She knew that.
Down low under the door was a piece of hard light
like something painted on the floor.
On the other side were nighttime family voices,
with creakings and warm steps and logs falling in the stove
and the clank when the poker moved the grate.
Her mother’s voice said town and then shopping
her uncle coughed a little now and then
her grandmother wheezed as she rocked
and the chair ticked like a clock and her grandmother’s shoes tsk, tsk-ed.
She wiggled her nose to make it warm, too,
and listened while the voices turned to mumbles
and the room got dark behind her eyes