safety in numbers

lunchtime, in the maths department
arranging pencils by colour
two friends, carefully sorting
into clear plastic tubs
a temporary stand
against the inevitable entropy
of fourteen-year-olds

this, and each september brightened
by a new pencil case
pencils sharpened
foldable ruler replaced
ink cartridges and fountain pen erasers
tip-ex mouse
a selection of gel pens
destined to dry up, and one
that smells like peach

neat handwriting on the first
snow-crisp page
date underlined with a steady hand
promise of a new start
a new chance

boys writing ‘5318008’ on their calculators
while I calculate the cosine
and rearrange to find x
soothed by the logic
of the textbook problem page
already a week ahead

one afternoon James filled my bag
with scissors, liberated
from the chemistry classroom drawer
a practical joke
revenge for my higher score
in a progress test
strange
how it made me feel like I belonged

new stationery
has turned to art supplies
gesso, sash brushes
golden acrylics and glue sticks
the joy of a black sharpie
and inktense pencils
on the waiting page

but sometimes
alone with my paints
and a canvas of impossible opportunity
I long for the sharp logic of x
and perfect protractor angles
the comfort of i
resting in the Riemann hypothesis

and lunchtime
in the maths department
sorting pencils

Helen Smith is an autistic poet and librarian from Dundee. She is co-editor of the new poetry broadside barbara, and has been published in various anthologies and magazines, including Clarion and Corvid Queen. Website: helensmithwrites.com / barbara.pub