[Mister Saint]: 79.Poetry.Outburst of Confusion

One of my 'Tracie' poems, written from her perspective.

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Outburst of Confusion

“Jus' write the answer,”
Instructor instructs,
“This should come righ' to ya.”

The whiteboard towers slick and pearl,
Dwarfing all the world, or so it seems
When you stand in front of it.

You groan beneath your breath.
The question is a simple one
Scrawled in acrid marker ink
In the wavering script of a teacher
Drunk on power
And, you suspect,
Vodka.

Your shoes feel a size too small.
Your skirt keeps creeping up your thighs.
You catch your breath, or would
But it feels like you need a net today.

“Everyone is staring at me," you tell yourself,
“Are they watching for my answer,
Or looking at my ass?”
You cast a nervous glance
Over your shoulder.

Right on both counts.

"We read this just a week ago,"
the drunkard's slurring words protest,
"Dun ya know we did?"
Sweat emerges from your brow
in rows like crates of chicken eggs
all soaked in brine.

"Hurry up!" a heckler barks.
"You just can't be this dumb!"
A moment's fury, justified,
shoulders through your paranoia.
but still the question cackles
with its gasoholic breath.
“I don’t understand,” you cry at last
And heave away the felt-tipped tube
Which clatters, banging
Across the desk
Of the teacher,
Drunk on power,
And signs his nose.