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Like Corn ---- antipasto


Like corn,
The children sit, planted in rows,
Swaying to and fro, to and fro,
Absorbing acrid raindrops
From the woman
With asphalt hands.

Their sun-
Burnt skin and tousled hair betray
An affair with the God of Play,
Who alone understands
The needs of their
Pent-up hearts.

They grow
Unruly and cry for release
From paper chains and hardback seats.
The schoolmarm clacks her ruler,
And with a gravel voice
Calls the class

To attention.
©2005-2009 ~antipasto
:iconantipasto:

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November 16, 2005
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