!3thWR

METACOGNITIVE

She approaches,
a child who spilled her Kool Aid.
Her presence is a stain that won't come out
no matter how hard I scrub.
She's fixed,
a bright blotch with rough edges,
blood reeling in her cheeks
as she explains her absence from class,
her inability to use a comma,
find agreement between subject and verb
because there was a fight,
and her mother was shot,
the walls and floor
all red
she stands there,
twisting her purse strap around her fingers,
as if holding herself together,
waiting for an answer.

- Peter Scheponik