Sister Ichabod Crane Poem by Bob Genevro

stares behind her wire-rim spectacles
as the class slump into their seats.

This is Class Picture Day at Nativity School.
Boys reek of Butch Wax and Wildroot Creme Oil.
White arrow shirts and salt n pepper corderoys
stiffen like cardboard from laundry starch.
Girls smell of Toni Home Permanents and 5-and-Dimestore perfumes.

'Come up here Douglas'
commands Sister Crane.
Big Doug shovels his fists into his pockets and
swaggers with his buckled boots to the Classroom Stage.

'Give me your comb Douglas'
Her bony pink fingers grip
his milky-white Wildroot caked comb with a Kleenex.
She restyles his Elvis Presley hair into Pat Boone
as she snarls her nose.

We press our backbones straight against the chairs.
Big Doug blubbers down the aisle
and sinks to his desk.

'Row 1-
Stand and go to the multi-purpose room please'
We march down the corridor.
Doug strolls behind us
ducks down
and reshapes his hair back to
Elvis.