The Girl Child

My body aches internally,

Sobs of wretched pain

Felt by a child, a girl, a child.

Sitting at my desk frantically

Planning away the next 1 ½ week-destiny of

My 9^th graders in Freshman English.

Running something off the printer requires

A trip to the teacher’s lounge…

Which is only halfway to the street to buy a soda.

So I went the other half and stood in line for a refreshing cold one.

I noticed Monsieur John wore a raincoat,

One that has pockets in random, out-of-the way places.

I began asking him if he keeps anything in the sleeve pocket.

He said “no,”

But I told him that was a good pocket, and

He should use it!

All of a sudden a beating ensued.

Linda, who I bought my racy, hot pink shoes from

Stood over a young girl, beating her with her hand, her arm.

The girl began screaming and sobbing, but she

Couldn’t get away because she was up against a wall,

And standing beside two vendors.

I cried out at Linda, so did Vernes.

The child, girl, child dodged out of Linda’s path just as

Linda picked up a 32 gallon milk tin,

About to throw it at her.

The child, girl, child ran behind Vernes—

The sweet, meek one who sits beside

Monsieur Mark and converses with me when I

Step outside the gate to flag down a moto

Or purchase a refreshing cold one.

Vernes just stood there in front of the girl,

Casually leaning towards the wall.

The girl, now sobbing, was in pain.

Linda was furious.

Monsieur John attempted to explain to me,

As I stood mouth gaping open.

My heart was racing, and I couldn’t understand him.

Another customer came to purchase a refreshing cold one,

And I moved to the side.

Still stunned.

Monsieur John responded again, and

I asked if she had taken something.

I believe the answer was “yes.”

Vernes helped respond as well as I asked her how the girl was

On my return inside the gate.

I guess she stole something.

She gave me something in return,

An internal chill…

Does the child, girl, child have a mother waiting for her?