"Children" by S.F. Wright

My boss,

Who’s worked

In our district

Through nine presidencies,

Refers to

The students

As children.

Yesterday,

During second period,

One student

Attacked another

In the boy’s room,

Which is located

Across the hall

From my room.

A passing teacher

Glanced into the restroom,

Screamed—

I called security

And returned

To teaching

My B-level

Sophomores.

I later learned that

The assailant had

Banged the victim’s

Head against the floor

And,

For good measure,

Bit a chunk of

Flesh

Out of his

Forehead.

Some teachers

Said that it

Could’ve been worse:

He’d need stitches,

Maybe even plastic surgery—

But at least he hadn’t

Lost an eye.

My boss’s

Office is two

Floors below;

Unless she asks,

I’ll not mention

The incident:

There’s something about

Letting her think

What she does,

Yet there’s something

Else—

Greater,

More difficult—

That tells me

That there’d be

No point.

S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, and Elm Leaves Journal, among other places. His short story collection, The English Teacher, is forthcoming from Cerasus Poetry, and his website is sfwrightwriter.com.