{"id":32665,"date":"2017-08-05T11:00:00","date_gmt":"2017-08-05T15:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=32665"},"modified":"2017-08-05T12:39:00","modified_gmt":"2017-08-05T16:39:00","slug":"a-roomful-of-faces-lined-up-in-rows","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2017\/08\/a-roomful-of-faces-lined-up-in-rows\/","title":{"rendered":"A roomful of faces lined up in rows"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>That girl,<br \/>\nNo you missed her,<br \/>\nThat girl.<br \/>\nToo old to be sounding out \u201cmonkey\u201d<br \/>\nToo old to spell it with a q.<br \/>\nMuch too old to need her fingers to add.<br \/>\nHer clothes stink,<br \/>\nHer butt crack sticks out,<br \/>\nHer burgeoning body is more than naked<br \/>\nSeen through that threadbare shirt.<br \/>\nShe yearns for a home she can\u2019t imagine.<br \/>\nShe doesn\u2019t know<br \/>\nWe don\u2019t all watch our baby sisters till bedtime so<br \/>\nStepdad can work on getting mom and grandma pregnant<br \/>\nAgain.<br \/>\nSo mom, when it isn\u2019t her turn, can cook that<br \/>\nMeth, pay rent, and make her daughter\u2019s rags smell like cat piss.<br \/>\nSo grandma, when it isn\u2019t her turn, can teach the girl about<br \/>\nBlowjobs and weed and how to shoot an ounce of vodka like a<br \/>\nTired ugly hooker.<br \/>\nSomebody told her school would make it better so<br \/>\nThere she is, sounding out \u201cmonkey\u201d and spelling it with a \u201cq\u201d.<br \/>\nI give her string for her pants, a clean shirt for the stink, and say,<br \/>\n&#8220;M. O. N. K. E. Y.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>That boy in the corner rocking and groaning, staring at the online test?<br \/>\nThe one who punched an aide last week for no reason?<br \/>\nHis brain broke when he was 4.<br \/>\nThere\u2019s a word for it, something pithy and easy to say.<br \/>\nBut living it?<br \/>\nHe understands everything but<br \/>\nCan barely talk or make much eye contact or control his hands when he\u2019s excited<br \/>\n(Sometimes the other boys remind him quietly to get his<br \/>\nFingers out of his fly)<br \/>\nHe can read and write and draw and count when he isn\u2019t<br \/>\nOverwhelmed because his socks itch and the dust falling through the air<br \/>\nGlitters in a shaft of sunlight and Ricky is picking his nose in the back row and<br \/>\nEricka is hugging herself and smelling her shirt and Sam has<br \/>\nPaper claws he\u2019s hiding in his desk and the texture of his book is indented with inkless writing almost legible after all these years that might say Tine loves Alien and the memory of punching that lady who told him no eighteen times bites him like a<br \/>\nFire ant up his pants.<br \/>\nSo I take him someplace quiet and say I don\u2019t care if he passes the test; I just want to see an honest try.<\/p>\n<p>He says the only sentence I will ever hear from him:<br \/>\n\u201cI love you.\u201d<br \/>\nWhen he can\u2019t see me, I cry.<\/p>\n<p>This, this is my yearning for justice.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; That girl, No you missed her, That girl. Too old to be sounding out \u201cmonkey\u201d Too old to spell it with a q. Much too old to need her fingers to add. Her clothes stink, Her butt crack sticks out, Her burgeoning body is&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":967,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,441],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32665","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-poetry-prompt-responses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32665","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/967"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=32665"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32665\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32674,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32665\/revisions\/32674"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=32665"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=32665"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=32665"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}