Square Root
I wished him dead
every time I sat in his class
I wished he were dead buried
not someone I had to face every day
I would only have to glance up at him
writing formulas on the black board
the drone of his voice
and wish him dead
he would always call on me
to read out what he had written
I picture his brain exploding
bloody cosines gush from his nose
all over his spotless white shirt
I wanted a sharp steel edge
on my protractor
to cut out his heart
save the class from algebra trig calculus
his stories of sailing
how he figured directions
with his slide rule
die die die
so we can figure out the angle
to bury you so your rotting corpse
will slump into your penny loafers
bones a jumble of secants
and underpants
the formula on the board
meant nothing to me
it could have been written in flame
blah blah squared
equals something degrees
my feet burning by the time I sat down
he would pat me on the shoulder
say you seem to be catching on
when I was really catching on fire
his abacus belt buckle at eye level
I’d stare at the rubble on my page
hope his hand would stay a bit longer
hope some of his knowledge could rub off
what was the angle of the dangle
behind that zipper
if he were to die I wouldn’t have to wonder
about where to look
when he stood so close
I leave the class
can’t remember a formula or anything
all I could see was that glint of belt buckle
and that wouldn’t be on the exam
This is based on memories of my high school days. The teacher is question is a merge of a couple of male teachers I had at different times, in different years. One taught English for a year & was gone, the other taught chemistry, I think, here I’m a bit unsure. I do recall the writing of formulas and the bulk of shoulders.
These two stood out because they were young men both in their first year of teaching. All the other teachers were older men & women, some of whom I really did wish were dead, or at least sick for a month or so, so we would get a substitute. Preferably male.
In high school it was pretty clear me that I was into men. Sneaking glances at cocks in the shower room before & after gym classes. In memory, one of those teachers presented a nice package when he leaned back against his desk to face the class to instruct. I’m not sure if he was at all aware of it though & if he was, it was probably for the benefit of the young ladies of the class.
Math was not my strong point. Thank God for calculators. I know now it was more to train the brain in logic than to give me information for future use. I have never had to do a trig function since leaving high school. I was a lazy thinker even then, given to losing focus easily as my eyes wandered & wonder about ‘dangles.’
Much of the imagery comes from the adult writer, not from the teenager. ‘written in flame’ is a reference to the Ten Commandments – it adds a Biblical resonance to growing up queer. I love the title because by the time you get to the end of the poem you know exactly what root I wanted to square off with.
January 20, Wednesday: judging at Hot Damn! it’s a Queer Slam – featuring Dominic Berry Supermarket Restaurant and Bar 268 Augusta Ave., Toronto, Ontario M5T2L9
https://www.facebook.com/events/585526728289564/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1504753909765085/
March 12, Saturday: attending:
June 3-5: attending: Capturing Fire 2016 – The DC Centre – 2000 14th St NW, Suite 105 – Washington, DC
http://capturingfire.com/#/page/1
June 11 – attending: The Toronto Poetry Talks – 10 AM – Metro Hall, 55 John Street, Toronto, Ontario M5V 3C6
https://www.facebook.com/events/147955055574679/
September 1-4: attending FanExpo 2016
https://www.facebook.com/fanexpocanada/?fref=ts
November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet
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“what was the angle of the dangle
behind that zipper” Ha! I love your way with words. lol. I hope you have fun at Capturing Fire this year!