Three Assemblies in November

I.

The Friday
after a presidential election,
the school gathers in the gym.

There’s a speech, then
the concert band performs the Armed Forces Medley.

As tradition,
they invite veterans from the community to attend,
parade through the gym behind a banner
as their branch’s theme plays.

You only see
the empty spaces where people should be.

II.

The Friday
after the next presidential election,
a different school gathers in Teams meeting.

There’s a speech, then
the yearbook advisor plays a slideshow set to the Armed Forces Medley.

As tradition,
they invite students and staff to submit pictures and bios of veterans in their families,
honor them as integral parts of the community
as their branch’s theme plays.

You only see
the empty spaces where people should be.

III.

The Friday
after a third presidential election,
the school gathers in the gym.

There’s a speech, then
the concert band performs the Armed Forces Medley.

As tradition,
they invite veterans from the community to attend,
stand up to be recognized
as their branch’s theme plays.

You only see
the empty spaces where people should be.

a classroom on november third

fluorescent light
under eggshell ceiling tiles

fallen rain against the window
barely audible
under student discussion

diffuse sunlight
above papier-mâché projects
and stacks of loose folders
around the surface of the wall-length counter

Fallen pine needles
in the planter outside the window
odd angles
raindrop craters in the soil

wrinkled papers and disheveled notebooks on desks
an archipelago of unfinished work

fallen leaves in the hallway
a trail from the carpeted entryway
to the threshold of your room

fun-size candy wrappers and broken pencils
haphazard across the thin carpet
over a concrete floor

a test proctor

silence

thirty students and laptops
along the room's perimeter

a pile of backpacks
between the door and a bookcase

fingers on keyboards
like rain on a sidewalk

warm, stagnant air
of early afternoon

five heads on desks
between hoods and forearms

cold coffee in a thrift-store mug
by the keyboard on your desk

a pencil eraser on a desk
120 beats per minute

a whisper
a nod

silence