Assigned Seat

by Peter Langella

Even in the partial sunlight,
you feel invisible
sitting in the last seat
of the last row.
No one seems to notice
your occasional gaze at the trees
through the towering windows-—
which stand twice your standing height—
or how the kind breezes make
the drawn, musty shade behind you
tap like a pencil against the glass’ frames
or how the same breezes, hushing
through the screen, erase
the passive chaos between your ears,
so that the breezes themselves become
the most important le son of the class,
during Mr. Murphy’s whole lecture,
which has something to do with fractions.