by April Halprin Wayland
Wake up! Are you a Jabberwock?
your head has nodded to the desk
at first I thought ’twas writer’s block
Oh, beamish boy—you’re hair’s askew!
I kick your shoe—I think it best
before our teacher catches you.
I’m glad you’re up, we’re on page ten.
Oh no! You’ve gone to sleep again!
The teacher’s chalk goes snicker-snack—
you clutch your pencil to attack
I tip your chair to keep you slack,
your head galumphing back.
She thinks you dead, stares at your head
but I distract, “What means this word?”
(I’m clever, like the Jubjub bird)
while you are whiffling through the wood
instead of listening (if you could).
You burble—so I loudly sneeze
(she’s terrified of slithy phlegm
which transmits frumious disease)
and then—O frabjous three p.m.—
Callooh! Callay!
You wake—we’re through with school today!
(c) 2011 April Halprin Wayland, all rights reserved