he growled at the soft
young girl
as she had read her poem
she had been so proud,
so full of her verses
so confident of its brilliance
the rest of us had
squirmed in our seats
because it was so bad
still
when he jeered at her
time was frozen
just like that, frozen
and as she ran from the class
we were filled with an aching
not just for her
but for Dan
the Dan who was dying
the Dan who didn't have
time for bad poetry