in blue marker
print better than mine
are the ordered words
Dry eyes
Quiet voice
Follow Directions
all for the special needs boy
who wants to hold his ribbon
rather than fill out formulas
i sit with the card
in front of my lunch
saying the words to myself
in a mantra that keeps me
from telling them what i really think.
i’m so thrilled to know
that the class i dread the most
has the neediest, rudest students.
i’m so thrilled to see
that every imaginable computer problem
will happen seventh period.
i’m so thrilled to hear
how well my not-quite-eight-year-old
understands sarcasm.
i’m so thrilled to know
that you think i need to read a book about defiance
so i can begin to put her in line.
i’m so thrilled to remember
why it is that she and i were not defiant.
fear is a great facilitator of submission.
i’m so thrilled to hear
the temper tantrums and talking back
that follow me everywhere i go.
i’m so thrilled to be
in this place i cannot escape from,
in this hollow where i don’t know who i am.
let me be thrilled
about something for real:
that you will never read this
(not knowing who I really am).
your tone hovers
like an angry cloud of hornets
over the perfectly peaceful day
that i have said good night to.
i will tuck it away for now
knowing that its snippets of disgust
will linger in my dreams
blackening the blue of today’s sky.
you will know none of this.
as always, your stings come straight
from your rear end, piercing me
and then abandoning everything,
unaware of the pain you have inflicted.
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