Other People's Children

Other People’s Children (8th January 2009, 4.15pm)

Across the blue linoleum floor they fly,
Bourne high on wings of overtiredness;
Drama Club for the hysterical pre-teens;
Teacher-torture, extra-curricular slaughter,
Will it end soon? We grimace at the room.

Their cries split our minds in two pieces;
Shrill, like seagull squabbles with banshees;
Down the headache pills with clutched tea;
Bear in mind we’re doing this for free;
Other people’s children are draining, see?

Sing Hallelujah to the light-slung heavens
As the minutes slink like cowards, slowly
Easing eyes and hands towards half-three;
Herd from the dark recesses of the toilets
The ‘She-said-something-horrible-to-me’s.

No bell rings out a joyous freedom chorus;
Clocks at odds; we take an educated guess,
Open the floodgates, watch the tide run out,
Interspersed with scream and screech and shout;
One long breath in and out: a sweet silence.