I did not know the rules of private.
Seated crisscross applesauce,
kids line the perimeter of the square carpet.
it nearly covers all of the cold classroom tiles.
the material prickles my legs as I sit still.
Morah Heidy wears a green button down shirt.
She is enthroned huge and heavy on her plastic chair.
She is distant from the carpet.
As she reprimands the insubordinate little boys
who cannot sit still like me,
she releases a guilty giggle.
An obedient girl, I am perfect and beloved.
Assured of my safety,
I finger my nose innocently,
relieving a deep-seated itch.
All at once I hear my name.
Banished, she orders me
to wash my hands with soap.
An unstained girl proclaimed dirty
Ears ringing, a swarm of little eyes follows me
to the bathroom, where I shoulder the lesson.
