7th grade mummification

i like to say i
hardly remember 7th
grade-- i know i must have
discovered checker-board vans 
& the thrift store that sold 
fifty-cent fish nets &
neon skinny jeans & olive green
eyeliner that orbited my lids 
like saturn rings--
in 7th grade we were got busy
re-living ancient 
history in a class devoted
to re-building the pyramids 
& erecting edible ziggurats 
from our desks--
pink frosting cake & 
kitkat temples 
for the ceiling tile gods--let's
build ourselves closer to the
sky-- none of us should get taller--
opened the windows & thought
about falling two stories
down to the soccer field below
where all the boys played capture the
flag-- grass stain gladiators 
& we all wanted boyfriends
after we learned about the pharaohs--
at least then we wouldn't die alone--
twelve years or two-thousand-- we were
far too old to die so young--
if nothing else we knew we believed
in the river to the underworld--
the one where they would weigh your heart 
against a feather--
we all knew we were too heavy--
we all know we would watch
our hearts swallowed by the devourer
as thoth-- the scribe
god would stroke the
gator-beast's neck-- there
we lay on the priest's table
in preparation for our inevitable
mummification in eighth period
history class-- i took the night
before to construct a mask of anubis
to conceal my face & i felt
powerful & ancient--
we took turns taking out each other's
organs & filling the canopic jars--
rubbing our bodies in salt to
keep our bodies clean & fresh 
for the afterlife we were too
heavy to reach-- blow away the
feathers with me-- then there'll
be nothing to weight us against--
sing a pyramid song with me
& i wore the anubis mask 
all period & after school until
i walked home
from school across the damp
grass of my backyard
adjacent to the school-- i removed
my ceremonial robes
in my room upstairs & looked
at the face of the once jackal-headed god--
plump freckled face of girl
so willing to attempt flight
out a window-- building pyramids
on her desks & reaching 
for the god who blared from
the white neon lights of each classroom--
we all secretly believed in
the love of isis & Osiris--
even if it was incest-- at
least they had each other
& a sun for a father-- what is there
to remember about 7th grade
if the soles still peeled off
my checker-board vans & the
fish nets were still too tight
to fit over my thighs--  
we small ancient people--
mummifying each other & filling
canopic jars with all the apologies
we'd save for our throats--
weigh my heart against the feather
i swear to you i'm not afraid
of how heavy i have been--