I Was Nine Years Old…

Old women were my primary school teachers
Church-proud spinsters every last one of them
Humiliation was their favourite weapon
For dealing with classroom crimes

Would Miss Liddell recall a grade five exam?
I was finished well ahead of time
You were sitting on the desk beside mine
Glowering over the silent, scribbling class

Quietly I asked, May I leave the room?
And quietly you said, No one leaves the room
I was soon desperate and asked again
No! you said, loud enough to attract stares

You could see my distress, but did nothing
You wouldn’t allow any infraction like this
And when I couldn’t hold it any longer
The piss flowed warm beyond my control

You noticed the growing puddle under my desk
And my face near bursting with tears
But what did you do, Miss Liddell, you cruel bitch?
You yelled at me for making such a mess!

This great distraction aroused the class
Sniggers and whispers flashed everywhere
And as the noise increased you continued yelling
At me, at them, trying to assert your control

Why didn’t you go before the exam?!
You could’ve held it in a few more minutes!
You’ll lose marks for this, get out of my class!
And I had to walk home like that.

Lon McIlwraith
Copyright 2013

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If you have any Poems… Send them to Bill

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