Rest you at the water

this is the strange classroom
where the test is being given and taken
this floor is like a ship on the sea

the light from the windows is cold
the tide is going out forever, the questions lack answers
and our teacher will not see.
my classmates are crying, sleeping, scratching their ears and their heads,
shuffling their exam papers like oversized tarot cards
but the future is elsewhere

this is the ship that crossed time
the pirates that come aboard are shot with revolvers, and slung overboard like anchors
they sink into black water-dreams
this ship crosses over minutes of sheet-rustling and pillow breath, buoyantly

deep in the heart of our vessel, where the youngest children hide, is the ice room.
if you open the porthole window, you can smell the sweetest air in the world.

drink your tea, lean out over the sea.
we are coming to a stop,
the avenue comes to an end at a red brick wall.
beyond it is a mystery, sleeping,
but it's time to get up:
when ships come to port in a paved lot -
when the dark companion evaporates -
and there's light coming in from the shutters -
from white drops of melted snow