He waited on a round ball
being spun in an hollow sphere
in a circular motion
only, it wasn’t for a sports team draft pick
or heaven forbid
a closed market for human trade.
No, he waited on coincidence
destiny and fate
for his number,
which while freshly assigned to him
the system has always socially secured him as a
number.
So as the balances begin to weigh out
with choice having as much of a chance
as justice dealt by a blind folded lady
he waited for his number to be called
for the possibility of an education
at the best school
with the best teachers
and whatever word you desire to put behind best
except that,
best doesn’t describe the situation he faces
if his number doesn’t get called…
the lottery.
This poem is from my new poetry book School Dad that was published today! You can order the book by clicking on School Dador the actual picture below.
