Temporary Metamorphosis in the Halls of St. George’s School for Boys
April 12th, 2006
By Archived Story
Wading through a chest-high sea of easy prey,
dominating the crowding hall, she is foreign
in this place. The perfectly patterned lockers stretch
infinitely down the corridor. Monochrome
landscape, free of pheromones and vibrant
colors, anything exciting the emotions beyond
squeaking Florsheim shoes (overwhelming
all other sounds). Towering over the ten-year-old
saplings, she navigates the elementary orchard
and patiently waits …
confidence manifested in her expression,
curiosity piquing her plucked eyebrows.
She falls into a distant life, vividly removed,
she feels the itch of government issue bed sheets—
caustic sandpaper tissue against her face,
She looks up through her prison-patterned
telescope and fantasize about this day.
She sighs now
choosing an exceptionally short blond
from the largely anonymous collection
of miniature neckties and squeaking shoes.
Pausing …
realizing now she knew
this day would come
she feels a crushing sense of self-defeat.
