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Simone
poetry [ ]

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by [motzoaca ]

2011-05-28  |     | 




You’are late Simone, again,
Red roses in your shoes sparkle with joy
You should be punished. Naughty corner.
In the mirror the self importance of the teacher
Raises her nose, like dough over the edges of the bowl
The cloth still.

Are you with us, Simone? Say present.
Put your hand up, tuck your feet under. The carpet is clean.
Shake that angel up from your shoulder. Is it not?
What is it then? Don’t be a little madame.
Grow up, grow teeth and breasts. Twirl . Walk around
On HB pencils. Mind my blanc sheet.

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