The smell of possibility means everything
On this wet morning
When the third exam is placed before you.
It's an old exam and you've seen
The questions before; you know
All the answers and how
You got them wrong before.
Again and again crashing through fences
And then backing up sheepishly once you've realized
You're wrong, not you, never you
Never right.
You think you know the answers now
But there's something, something in the light
And the possibility
And the feathered hope, light-winged
That travels over your exam paper
Confusing you
And the warmth in thinking
Maybe just maybe
But you've failed this exam before
And should know exactly
The right places to shade
Because there is no other option, and if you fail again
You've failed
Forever.
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