Nosebleed

It's common enough in schools,
though not among the staff.
He runs to the kitchen,
which is closer than the toilet,
and leans over the sink.

He watches the drips.

We all know the colour,
but it's the sound that gets him,
the regular thud thud thud
of liquid on moulded metal.
It seems to be striving for resonance,
as if it's trying to ring,
as if it's trying to make the sound
of a bell.

He thinks of the word 'campanology'.
He has been a teacher all his life.

It isn't stopping.
It's getting faster.
He feels the pressure easing,
in triplets:
let it out, let it out, let it out...