Ocho, for
Senora Sol,
who called me
Clemente–
danced to afro-rhythms
& inspired 8th graders
to expand themselves
Teaching is a hard
job–
But that’s not
why I bailed
Gets real hard
raising other kids
when you can’t raise
your own
Plain language
not poetic;
we’ll call it
ocho,
divisible by dos
for birthdays missed
& uninvited by
laws & lies
Loss, losing, loser
Questioning this
pen, this pad,
them books, this
life
Down, but not
out
certainly not filled,
but filled with doubt.
Real words written
in a moment of time
call it ocho,
for consistency &
loss
Tomorrow’s a new
day & that
will cost
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