Fen - 10
The bookcase, glass doored above the bottom third,
ran beside the lines of desks. Propped against
the end were the linseed canes. All but one,
the new boy, bore a ring of coloured tape.
When choosing a book, having done your sums,
we would peek and giggle, and discuss
which would hurt the most - the gnarly black, red,
blue or green, or the unseasoned yellow
fraying at the end. Then hurry away.
Of course girls did not get the cane, being
so nice and all, only boys faced the fall.
Faced the green leather of the desk, felt
the un-closed drawer dig into their shin,
the hand in the small of the back, the begging.
And of course you couldn't cry, that was for girls.
So you counted the strokes, and bit your lip,
until by four, hot tears burned more than the biting
of the cane against your buttocks and thighs.
And you would look out to your classmates
to see who was smiling and who looked down,
and who was judging them-self in your place,
as you took the final two. And having thanked Sir,
you would make your way through silence
to your desk, sit in the hot-seat, pretend to do work,
open the lid to rearrange your pens.
No comments:
Post a Comment