...to Dust

It happened Thursday afternoon,
When she erased it all too soon.
The blackboard was chock-full of notes
Our heads were down, we madly wrote.

Then we’d look up and there was MORE!
Way more than there was before.
With heavy hearts we’re scribbling quickly.
Tapping feet, we’re breathing thickly.

She knew we’re cramming for the test.
Couldn’t she trust we’d do our best?
If only she’d felt we’re on her side
Must we remain her her foe denied?

Her glance was chilling as she swept
All information mere moments kept.
The faintest trace of hope we’d pass
Was clear and gone as light through glass.

But worse, we found to our alarm,
She had erased my classmate’s arm!
And then his knees, and last his ear.
And then he was quite gone, I fear.

For he’d been worried something dire,
Then consumed as if in fire.
We watched in horror chalk dust flying,
Dumbstruck there was no denying.

As she stroked the boards with felt
His corporeal body seemed to melt
Into the air right by my desk.
So now he’ll take no Friday test.

But I was wondering where he went.
And why her notes she thusly spent?
And what the heck was all the hurry?
As if she had to see us scurry.

She might have watched or felt or thought.
She might have waited, reasoned, sought.
She might have paused or breathed or sighed
She might have cared, or maybe tried.