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Open Poetry #20
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Ladyhawke
Member
since 2001-09-01
Posts 86


0 posted 2002-05-06 06:24 PM


What is this that floats in clouds
Around my head and obscures
My vision like the ocean fog?
It comes with a dry smell.
It is powder, chalk powder,
From wiping the slate,
Then beating those erasers...

They have done much work;
They are nearly worn,
But they have a few more
Things to wipe clean.

I thank God that I was
Given these erasers;
Without them, I would
Still glance nervously
Over my shoulder at the age
Of forty, wondering which
Monster is creeping up
Behind me.

So much cleaning up to do
In the wake of my own wreckage.
You would think I was an
Unhouse-trained puppy,
Or else an evil person...

Why else would I have to serve
So much detention?

© Copyright 2002 Ladyhawke - All Rights Reserved
nakdthoughts
Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200
Between the Lines
1 posted 2002-05-06 07:20 PM


*s..I  use to have my students want to stay after school to be my helpers and clap erasers or  clean the boards...*s of course they were only 9 years old..
M

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

2 posted 2002-05-06 07:33 PM


Delightfully paranoid and strange -- in a child-like and fun way. I don't how or what you did exactly, but you did it well! Thanks for tryin' something new. I liked it.
Ladyhawke
Member
since 2001-09-01
Posts 86

3 posted 2002-05-06 07:44 PM


nakedthoughts, I used to like to clean the erasers, too...but then, I was only nine years old...and there wasn't as much to clean.

bsquirrel, thank you much for your comments.  I'm glad you enjoyed this.

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