Saturday, December 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Parochial School: 1958
The nun dressed in black and white,
black rubber tipped pointer in hand.
I sat at a wooden cast iron desk,
with a blotter and inkwell stand.
Penmanship was taught back then,
along with the ten commandments.
All dressed up in our uniforms,
we knew we mustn't say dammit.
Sometimes my mind would wander,
to the crates at the back of the room;
little glass bottles of chocolate milk,
our break couldn't come too soon.
Then all of a sudden, a swish and a crack
startling me from my dream.
I sat up straight and faced the front,
choking back a scream.
Sister standing beside me now
with a cold stern look in her eyes,
the large wooden cross of Jesus
still swinging at her side.
Copyright 2011 by Robert E. Aldrich Jr.
black rubber tipped pointer in hand.
I sat at a wooden cast iron desk,
with a blotter and inkwell stand.
Penmanship was taught back then,
along with the ten commandments.
All dressed up in our uniforms,
we knew we mustn't say dammit.
Sometimes my mind would wander,
to the crates at the back of the room;
little glass bottles of chocolate milk,
our break couldn't come too soon.
Then all of a sudden, a swish and a crack
startling me from my dream.
I sat up straight and faced the front,
choking back a scream.
Sister standing beside me now
with a cold stern look in her eyes,
the large wooden cross of Jesus
still swinging at her side.
Copyright 2011 by Robert E. Aldrich Jr.
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