Last One to Leave on the Last Day of Term

Just after four and half past sudden bells,
slammed doors and the clamour of abandonment.
Students have gone to swill cider in the park.

My teacher retracts to the mollusc shell staffroom
I ride the crescendo of the afternoon
alone on the stage in the unlit hall, looking for a book
a story about a lamb and a miracle. Our master’s
lectern is empty - a space to speak my poem
through the chalky air of too quiet corridors.

Rejoice in heretical lines, unfurled like a cypher
drift through the long window, rolled out like a page
of the only book you will ever need.

Things will happen when we are away
a new coat of floor polish, the piano will be tuned.