One Interpretation

In a well-lit room,

Sun harshly reflecting off the

speckled linoleum floor

Like a freshly waxed car,

Students brace themselves

In creaky plastic chairs,

Ready to dismember a poem.

They are told where each incision should be,

How deep to sever,

How hard to yank.

Soon there is nothing left

But a mistreated poem

Longing

to be inspected by a child,

Placed in a sifter,

And filtered through their mind.