Middle School Perjury

The heater is clicking a rhythm of glass,

like the window that broke in the courtyard of class.

I’m thirty-four now but I’m back in the chair,

with the smell of the floor wax and salt in the air.

My voice was a wire that was ready to snap,

as I laid out the lie like a heavy steel trap.

I pointed at Billy and watched his face fall,

while I stared at the cracks in the cinder-block wall.