“a face / from the ancient gallery”

today i got up so late i

decided to take the bus to work. a knot of people,

a white dog dim in a totebag, squint vaguely west

where the bus’ll be rolling in. a crossingguard

motions across the way: a fenced-in schoolyard. older kids

running with games or late again. chatter dins. then pipes up

a loudspeaker, megaphone. my eyes search for what my ears can’t.

laughing baritone: it intones:

the killer awoke before dawn

and i think,

music. they must have the classics on. unfazed,

the playground games continue. he put his boots on,

the pendulum swings again, and eyes at the busstop

begin to flick uneasy. he took a face

from the ancient gallery and he

walked on dooown the hall

maybe a principal. a ranter? but as if it happens every day,

they begin to line up to go inside. the voice,

smug, deft, as if quoting shakespeare. as if

for them it might as well be shakespeare. dusted off

from the shelf:

more figurine than figure.