The Dunce Is There Poem by Sally Traore

The Dunce Is There



A mentally impared boy
named tom
sitting on his chair
next to the window
the wind blowing his hair
Ms M ask him a question
he says no with his head
when she suggest
to pay attention
but he says yes with his heart
when respect is there
he is up
we questionne him
and all the problems are posed
he starts sweating nervousness importe him
everyone laughs at him
Then the laugh carries him
and he erases all
the numbers and words
the sentences and traps the names and dates
with chalks of all
colors
on the black board of misfortune
he draws the face of happiness

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Sally Traore

Sally Traore

mannhattan
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