Treasure Island

Michele Vassal

Break Time

in the corner of the window
there is a fly, paper dry
and a small web
that swaddles
only flakes of paint
white flecks in its weft
like stars
or snow
or dandruff
on Brother Gregory's lapel
the left side of his face
against the glass
'Be still'
on his lips, his breath
lays icy beads
the pane vibrates
'Learn boy'
to be still
to be that spider
in its dull gossamer
layers of pain under the skin
at the shoulder
in the small of his back
the bell rings
he has learnt
to be still
like that fly
to be still
an empty casing

Submitted: Thursday, April 26, 2012
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