High School Jungle

A poem from Nicole Nicholson  found here.


High School Jungle
 
I am tired of the clichés.
Laughter does not roar. It rises
in walls of sound, evil surf, pouring ocean:
walls of Moses to steal away your sun.

Laughter does not roar; it rises,
grows teeth, when you are not looking.
Walls of Moses to steal away your sun.
And you, dog-bellied, an unstripped bone.

Growing teeth when you are not looking,
the locker room legends learn to use their teeth –
and you, dog-bellied, an unstripped bone,
you are their prey for practice.

The locker room legends, learning to use their teeth,
empty surf from firebrand throats.
You are their prey for practice.
It wraps its arms around your body.

The emptied surf from firebrand throats
casts itself down, digging its fingers inside your belly.
It wraps it arms around your body.
Reaches in, ties your insides into doubled sailor knots.

Casting itself down, digging fingers into your belly,
the surf has entered you, become you, wall of sound.
Inside, you are tied into doubled sailor knots.
Dam up your eyes to stop the tears.

The surf has entered you, become you, wall of sound.
Flooding in the cafeteria, fifth period lunch.
Dam up your eyes to stop the tears.
During cleanup, the only body found is yours.

Flooding in the cafeteria, fifth period lunch.
Cast away your heart as mere offal.
During cleanup, the only body found is yours.
No one pauses to say a prayer.

Cast your heart away as mere offal.
This is how you survive high school.
No one pauses to say a prayer,
and I am tired of the clichés.