oV

I was small and a childand spelling was timed exerciseand we were being tested

And a small like me childWhen the teacher commanded“of”mouthed the wordAndAgainand thenI watched the penas his mind made upon spelling“oV”

and I knew he would be punishederrors are punishedand I hid behindcorrectitudeand wrote:“Of”

And my teacher praised meand the praise became a cavethat I went down inside of miningbright white flecks of pure rightnessand melted cast them to a mask andarmornow well worn   so you can see right throughso you know          I was meant to write “oV” butclever as preyI mimicked myviolatorand sohid

and when the teachergraded aloud commentedon his error, punishedI laughed soI would becountedamongtheLaughing Right

The Unpunished

the safe      from punishment

because I was scared notto point and laugh andI was scaredto be punished too

to be punished meantto be forever notUnpunished

(I thought)

I thoughtI was being testedThoughttheir laughingwould never punishMe

If IwasrightAt hidinguntil I wasNo longer small