I’ve dreamed of small children
every night since school started again:
happy smiles, arms held out, so full of love.
Bright dreams.
Waking is stark:
in the second week, a student
aged thirteen
committed suicide
on the middle school campus.
I still see little children
holding out their arms
in my dreams each night
only now I think about
how quickly
bright dreams die.
lit bits and pieces 