Tap. Tap. SNAP.
Down comes the ruler to desk.
Eagle eyes assume my inattention.
Pursed lip sneer at my confusion.
What was her question?
Monday’s child loses face.
Fairness isn’t in this place.
Whee. Whee. TWEET.
Crashing blindly into the divide.
Clip board records my transgressions.
Whistle jeers at my ill-fated collisions.
Why do I have to run extra laps?
Tuesday’s child lacks grace.
Move faster to keep pace.
Plop. Plop. SQUELCH.
Gripping the lunch tray tighter.
Serving spoon mixes between dishes.
Gloves stained with broken wishes.
How can I hold back my vomit?
Wednesday’s child empties woe.
Rushes past her schoolyard foes.
Buzz. Buzz. SCREECH.
Pull up legs, putting feet on seat.
Breaks release, another stop passes.
Pounding feet stick to the molasses.
What’s that smell in the leathers?
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Counting the stops down to zero.
Click. Click. JINGLE.
Turn the lock slowly before entry.
Tea cups clink, gossip as ladies twitter.
Step silently, don’t disturb the critters.
Where can I hide for a few hours?
Friday’s child isn’t heard or seen.
Least love be forced for the screen.
