Dust packed into air,
some madman, in the basement locked,
is trying to escape through radiator pipes.
His bones
make pipes clank,
they are beating against the ribs.
Somewhere a teacher's skin,
dry and hot, scratches arthmitic,
and dry Latin lessons of grammar.
The sky is heavy, wet, and high
with clouds the heavy dragging heads
hope brings snow.
Hope brings snow,
and an end to math.
Hot mad radiators promise to keep it up,
till spring, till the end.
