No poem yesterday–just couldn’t get into the prompt. Maybe I’ll find something to go with it today, but I can’t say I’m all that worried about it. Today’s options were to write a hopeless or a hopeful poem. This one isn’t really hopeless, but it does look at a discouraging situation that anyone who’s ever taught can certainly relate to.
Grading
Each class is twenty-seven
which on paper day means
I bring an extra bag.
Eighty-one papers slide
off the desk if stacked straight–
even snagging staples can’t
resist gravity, the slick
ski slope of printer paper.
They avalanche me; no
hope of a St. Bernard to dig
me out, no barrel of brandy
to blur commas to semicolons.
Another Poem to Love 
Enjoyed this. My hat is off to anyone who is a teacher.