deepundergroundpoetry.com
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She staples her plaid skirt shut. The buttons shot off, she says. I want to ask whose glitter press-on nails I found beneath a desk, whose clot of blood I smeared with my shoe in the girls’ bathroom. I visited it a few days later. It had dried and flaked, as if scratched by someone’s fingernail.
There’s a lesson on how to sit properly going on in the cafeteria. (Don’t straddle.) There’s also a Student Council meeting about ways to get the boys to stop chewing tobacco and masturbating in the lavatory between classes. They’ve been writing on the walls with themselves.
There’s a lesson on how to sit properly going on in the cafeteria. (Don’t straddle.) There’s also a Student Council meeting about ways to get the boys to stop chewing tobacco and masturbating in the lavatory between classes. They’ve been writing on the walls with themselves.
Published 8th Jun 2013
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Anonymous
9th Jun 2013 1:33am
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