NaPM April 29 2014

[Keith]

Before the white boards

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks dived a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook,
for a teacher.