Standardized Testing

The teacher is talking about percentages

and how my son drifts off

during the silent reading hour.

I’m wearing the blazer I bought for the wedding,

the wool too thick for this humid room.

The shoulder pads feel like bricks.

I’m sitting in a plastic chair

meant for a seven-year-old,

feeling the label at my neck

sawing away at the skin,

reminding me I should have been

someone who remembers to cut it off.