The Empty Locker

The folder is heavier than the single page inside. It carries alarm clocks,

They call it the beautiful game and they're wrong— it's the desperate game.

You crossed the stage alone, though a hundred hands had steadied earlier stairs.

At eight o'clock my worksheet says Explain the water cycle. At eight-oh-five my brain becomes

My pencil says it feels prepared. It sharpened twice last night. My eraser says mistakes are fine.

A train leaves Leeds at half past three. Another leaves York at four. Question six would like to know