Last Minute

• Beatrice Zhang, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2017

Curtains drawn over speckled nights,
Blocks the woodland sight.

Eyes attached to glowing things,
Ignoring long chimes the clock brings.

A marathon reserved for typing,
No room nor hour for whining.

Sacks of air left struggling,
The beasts in cavities left rumbling.

Bursts of light grapple the blinds,
To nudge the haze out of the minds.

Still not done — with no time,
Now should be good for bedtime.