DISCUSSION POINTS

The upturned face of the girl in class—
she’s tentative but correct. I motion for her
to keep talking, finish your thought, I say, but the boy
to her right is already filling the room
with his disagreement, not worried about
the meaning of his words as much as their volume,
the force with which he hurls them, the way the others
look to him, the way I must wince but try
to keep my face still as stone. I recognize this
kind of boy, who will become a man who will
be heard, who will talk over the girl who sinks
now into her chairback but smiles at me
the closed-mouth smile I also recognize. It’s okay,
her eyes say, it wasn’t important anyway.