She raised a finger
Excuse me, teacher!
If the holy cow slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams would we always die?
the teacher a tremor slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class
lessons fallen from children’s hands
and the walls what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for a hand that appeared in the rubble
with the call of a rising finger!
Excuse me, Sir!
May I get up?