I teach myself in outline haunting my own childhood in classrooms of dirty
children that smelled of snot and tears and wet feet in winter catching spitballs and
and a storm of childhood diseases while a lifeless bag of asafoetida hung around
kept to keep me free from all contagion and while I stank with safety
Enclosed by the walls between us by the chemistry of the dead spaces we share
smelling naïve and plastic safe and unspeakable
they will not speak.