Third-period Class
Elizabeth Howard
 

The basketball star stands by my desk, arms in casts, elbows bent awry. He says he fell, crushed both hands, will have to wear these casts for weeks. We talk of tests and homework, impossibilities and necessities.

marking papers
the red pencil drops
from my cramped grip

In the hall, whispers of a different story: how he bashed his fists into a brick wall after his girlfriend went cruising with one of his friends.

white knuckles
sophomore boys
arm-wrestling

Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee, where she taught high-school English. Her haiku have been published in Modern Haiku, The Heron's Nest, Snapshots, South by Southeast, and Mariposa; her haibun in Frogpond, Hermitage, and Contemporary Haibun Online, and other journals.

Copyright 2006: Simply Haiku