His name is Jimmy.
I know
Because I call it everyday
But he has never answered,
Never had anything to say.
He has never raised his hand
Or queried any question.
I don't know
About his hopes
Or plans,
Inspiration or direction.
He does not know anaphora
He does not know techniques.
To him a diacope is nothing. To him
The system stinks.
So in class, I leave a chair for him:
he is always with me.
The boy who was never
In my class.
It says his name is
Jimmy.
-
Author:
peripheralhearing (
Offline) - Published: June 24th, 2023 16:30
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is for all the children still missing from the classroom after the pandemic.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 7
Offline)
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