Mrs. Blackmere’s Last Day
My fifth period is literally a zoo –
Uncontrollable terrors running fro and then to,
And here I am sitting just trying to read.
People rush past me with immeasurable speed.
The teacher is yelling; I don’t think she knows
Where the energy comes and where it all goes.
Mrs. Blackmere clears her throat and begins
to teach the class English, but she never quite wins.
Paper airplanes zoom by and boys belch ABC;
My friends and I sit, wondering what we can say.
I think someone’s crying; I hear sobs from the back.
I bet it’s Old Blackmere starting to crack…
Her hair’s gone white from the stress of the boys’ fun;
she began a brunette, and she’s only thirty-one!
She used to stand firm with her hands on her hips;
Now she hides, trembling, tearing paper in strips.
The bell is ringing; it’s beginning to snow;
The period’s over, and I think we should go,
But it’s clear Billy still has one final trick –
I’d tell you what happened, but you might get sick.