Last First Day Back


In the first day halls arise slight scents

Of layered floor wax, student nervousness

Static new shirts, cotton combed jeans

And hair blended with

The rising cost of chemicals.

After the blurred search for a room number,

We open the same books

We’ve always been opening

Updated with new footnotes, images

Fonts, page texture, and critical theories.

Our talk is mixed with a quiet

Summer attitude of late mornings

Florescent lighting spots a yawn

Coffee appears in an array of costumes

New pens have been invented

To handicap note takers handwriting

Lids of laptops are raised

For the ones who lack concentration

Who claim they are multitaskers

The multitaskers raise the lids

Finishing early as all first days do

The sound of so many steps upon tile

The newborn attempt to find the elevator

We all reach its doors together

The question is the same

Up or down?

16 Comments on “Last First Day Back

  1. Pingback: National Poetry Month... - Nicole Sharp

  2. Pingback: Alas, this poetry crap… – Nicole Sharp

  3. Hey fellow-blogger, passed by to thank you for following my blog, Women of Warfare! which is appreciated.
    Read a few of your poems and can appreciate your talent and unique train of thoughts, although do not always understand what’s being said.
    Loved this poem and love your use of language.


  4. Last First Days and Last First times. The oh so beautiful mix of nostalgia and love for it! You’ve captured it perfectly and beautifully!


  5. Pingback: Coffee Leaves | Always a Cappuccino

  6. Memories flash and dance as I read your evocative, rhythmic words. For me it was a one-room country school that never heard the concept of elevator, unless it was in regards of want or marks or mathematics or effort. Ten grades in one room, four-and-a-half miles through all weathers. Open a book, make a mess, “Be more neat!” – don’t know how. Ink well, wooden handle with long nib, not built for tiny hands. Teacher with leather strap and bull-whip attitude. Pot bellied stove, too cold to unhook the harness from the horse…Memories…memories…We survived!

    Liked by 2 people

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