His name is called and there's a pause

just long enough to halt a war

tame timber wolves and trim their claws

hide diamonds in a secret drawer

He swears on his mother's life he wasn't there.

And if he was there

he swears on his mother's life it wasn't him.

And if it was him

He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.

Eyes as wide as continents brim wih the water between.

Seeks a different future. Looks back on what has been.

Mouth seeks another language. Shapes a different air.

After the fiftieth insult - 

the school bag down the toilet, the stifled

giggle-whisper that hung like a smear on the air - 

she suddenly saw

The playground is built on top of a graveyard.

Press your ear to the tarmac and you'll hear the undead

scratching on their coffin lids.

This morning I've got too much energy
much too much for geography

I'm in a high mood
so class don't think me crude
but you can stuff latitude and longitude