I, Too

Have sat in the back of the class

Melding with the woodwork

Staring down at grounded hands

Praying not to get called on

I, Too

Have met eyes with

Only concrete and words unsaid

Sentences never leaving the tip

Of my tongue along with all the

Things I could have mentioned

I, Too

Have been envious of

Easy chatter and felt

The weight of

The silence between us

I, Too

Have lists of everything that

Could go wrong, what

Might happen upon

what might happen

And I, Too

Have noticed you

Staring at your grounded hands

Wishing

You could raise them