Final exams... Break a leg!"

You are rare flowers sprouting
up from the classroom floor as if it were
a desert after winter storms,
as if you were not terrified of being trampled
and no one noticing.
When you hand in writings
permeated with pain so deep it seems blood
must flood the pages,
the masks "teacher" and "student" fall away,
and it is simply you and I,
love clean as bleached bone."