Miss Arkle's Wart Poem by Terry Collett

Miss Arkle had a wart on
The back of her neck.
Miss Arkle taught maths
And smelt of lemons.
You wiped the blackboard
As she had instructed
Wiping away her handwritten
Workouts which made no
Sense to your tired brain.
The wart on her neck like
A dried brown prune caught
Your eyes. It sat above her
Pink scarf. It kind of spoilt
Her beauty like a bruised apple.
You wanted to slice it off
And flick it away. Having wiped
The blackboard clear you
Returned to your seat.
You carried the image in
Your mind like a damaged fruit.
Maybe you thought she should
Grow her hair and hide it there.
Miss Arkle had beautiful breasts
Like melons on show in a store.
You and other boys enjoyed
Your secret stare. Shame about
The wart now out of sight. You’d
Take both images of Miss Arkle
To your lusty bed that night.