Exams will be postponed due to weather
Or not we can peel ourselves from our sheets
Begin the day as budding adults—unlikely.
Instead, we watched the flakes suicide
Against the warm winter windows, we expected snow
But got instead a metaphor, god I hate literature,
Read it again slowly, don’t skip over the dialects.
If a professor holds an exam and none of us
Show up did it really happen—yes—my kid id meant well
But I haven’t cracked a spine in days,
These textbooks are the letters I never wrote to my mother
Those letters are the calls I let forward to recording.
Those recordings are still in the mailbox.
If I don’t hear them—
Yes, they’re still real.
I’ll remember this as the part of my life I regret
The least. I won’t remember this at all since
It’s Thursday of exam week and I haven’t slept
On my back for nightss. If I smash my nose into the crease
Of every novel it’s almost like I was reading . I wasn’t…
Planning on sleeping with you last night,
But since it was bound to happen, read me that chapter
Again, in case there isn’t enough snow to call off our finals.
—ECW
ECW Poetry 