This is the second part of a two-poem piece. The first one recounted a grade 1 experience of mine. This one happened three years later.
The friend to whom I refer in this poem is the same friend who is the subject of Precious Friend from a previous Poetry Train post.
Playground Politics Grade 4
The insurgents
No longer requiring their
Inamorata
Already regrouped
Taking new positions from
This morning's skirmish
I'd even rushed home
Inhaled my Kraft dinner
And stepped onto the playground
Half an hour early
To find my troops
Already kicking away
The huddled group of boys
Shoved each other toward
The hob-nailed harridans
Seeking to prove their own endurance
A primal quest toward manhood
While all we wanted
Was an excuse
To maim and bloody
Before the bell rang
Inexperienced colonel
I didn't hear the whispers
Ricochet off the walls
A coup erupted from the giggles
I hung from all fours
The girls were gone
And they dragged me
To be their
Signature victim
I couldn't face
My own invention
Far more chilling
The absence of outraged mobs
Defending the founder of their movement
I hoped their lack of action
Was due to perceived shame
I felt the snowy wool
Congeal on my skin
As I bumped along the ground
The procession halted
Mere paces from the slaughter
Dumped
Unceremonious and sprawling
I saw the boys scatter
Two fists
Two feet
A wild mane of hair
My champion dispersed them
As if on cue
Every girl on the playground
Pursued the enemy
I scrambled to my feet
The urge to reclaim The Corner
Swelling in my chest like fear
My previous horror
At what I'd created
Dashed to a pulpy splat
On the asphalt
In the comfort of my desk
As we copied from the board
I stared at this class of deserters
Connie wrote behind me
We never talked
And so were not separated
As all best friends must be
I turned
And wordlessly
I picked up her eraser
Her gaze turned to me
How could her shining armour
Lay so unobtrusively
Beneath a polyester turtleneck
And Levi forest green cords?
Copyright 1987 Julia Smith
Wow, that DID get better from the first part! I wasn't sure how you'd do it, but you sure did.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done, Julia!!
Inhaling Kraft Dinner. Yep I remember that and I still do that.
ReplyDeleteThis does take me back to the dramas of the school years...
ReplyDelete"While all we wanted
ReplyDeleteWas an excuse
To maim and bloody
Before the bell rang"
Awesome, love it.
This is fantastic Julia!
Ah, the memories :-) Love it.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is fantastic! I remember entertaining these thoughts while watching my fourth grader on the playground last year.
ReplyDeleteWow Julia! you totally channeled your inner child. It's funny how much of our child logic we forget. brought back a whole host of memories for me.
ReplyDeleteI hated school and this is a reminder why. Nicely done.
ReplyDelete4th grade insurgents...
ReplyDeleteLife was dramatic back then, huh?
High Drama in the Playground!
ReplyDelete"...How could her shining armour
ReplyDeleteLay so unobtrusively
Beneath a polyester turtleneck
And Levi forest green cords..."
This I love a lot!
Well done
"...The hob-nailed harridans..."
I've always wanted to date one of these creatures, never did get up the courage to ask one out.
yes I loved the inhaling kraft dinner, too. Very reminiscent...
ReplyDeleteVery reminiscent. I missed out on most of the playground politics that year- spending most of my time in a cast and on the sidelines. Cool poem.
ReplyDeleteI loved the part Lila loved. God, great poem Julia.
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Anna J. Evans
Nice! And I love that first pic, it looks amazingly similar to my own elementary school.
ReplyDeleteDang, that jogged out a memory of a bully we had at our grade school. Haven't thought of him in ages.
ReplyDeleteI got the jist of this one, but golly were there alot of words I needed to actually look up
ReplyDeleteWhy do men always have to prove they are strong, even at that young age...
ReplyDeleteThis is an excellent poem!
ReplyDeleteWOW. Very cool! Great post!!
ReplyDeleteAsI am still in school, now teaching, I loved this.
ReplyDelete