Miss Barratt would thwack your palm
with her two-tongued leather tawse
for asking to borrow a pencil,
make you stand in a dark cupboard
for one hour for being one minute late,
rap you over the knuckles with a ruler
for getting your sums wrong.
My school satchel lay under my desk,
if I touched it with the tip of my toe I’d be safe (not yet)
if I touched it with the tip of my toe I’d be safe (not yet)
if I touched it with the tip of my toe I’d be safe.
Not yet.