White-knuckled nuns rang hand-
bells at recess. They tried hard to tame us.
At noon we ran from the cloakroom, to
dawdle on train tracks, go Indian
file on hot steel, FEEL the
wind- Whom no one has seen- on our faces.
Five -cent copy-books and two-cent
nibs, wooden double- seaters and sloshing
ink wells waited, our destined
imprints momentarily delayed.