English Class Poem by Thomas Buckley

The walls are white
to the side of me and behind me
and painted copper at the front
behind the teacher's back.

Bulletin boards display pictures,
of famous writers- poets, authors, critics;
and there, staring through the windows
sits Shakespeare, beside him
a timeline of his life.

Etchmarks such as a ruler,
each inch a new year and above
each inch, his growth.

And I wonder to myself,
is there a ruler measuring my
seconds and minutes,
each separate breath as a millimeter,
to be hung in an English classroom
beside Shakespeare one day?

My talent tells me not to dream
of a mid-spring morning
where my picture and lifeline
are faded and forgotten by the students
while I watch from my frame
as they read his poems and drama,
mine lies within the trash barrel by the door.

Did not my mind then tell me
to never dream,
for only love may beat eternally
as his heart still beats, and
mine has been extracted
from my chest and been placed beneath the words of this poem.