Strike Anywhere Match

Eighteen pairs of eyes fix on me,
or on anything in the general direction 

of the front of the classroom. No one  
actually yawns, though their faces look 

like yawning. Outside, the rain is barely  
leaving pencil marks on the roof. Here,

it's mostly silent. Today the story is 
about a pig in a lab, whose organs 

are being genetically engineered 
for eventual transplant to victims of 

a plague. What does the world look like 
if one believes in the superiority of 

humans to other species? What use-
fulness does sacrifice have in the world? 

The students look at me as if I'm the lab 
animal in the crate, and they're the scientists 

circling the room with clipboards and pens. 
I dearly want to know: what will it take 

to kindle a fire, get them to care 
about stories and poems, warm up 

to metaphor and meaning? Toward the end 
of the session, they shut their tablets 

and zip backpacks close, heave out of their 
seats and walk out of the room— expressions 

mostly unchanged as I erase the board, return 
the matchstick to its box marked "strike anywhere."