THROUGH ANOTHER DAY 1963

A SCHOOL GIRL AND A NUN IN IRELAND IN 1963

The nun watched the girl Moran
stub out a cigarette
by the cycle sheds,
and flick it away.

She watched her
put hands in the pockets
of her coat,
and saunter back
towards school.

Mary entered
by the double doors
of the school,
and the nun stopped her
raising an open hand
towards her.

Want a word with you,
Moran,
the nun said,
eyeing the girl,
taking in
the bright of eyes,
the pouting lips.

What's up?
Mary said,
I've lessons
to be getting to,
and you know
what the Bridget's like
if we're late,
half wets herself
with anger,
so she does.

Hush yourself,
the nun said,
and follow me.

Mary followed the nun
into a side room,
and the nun shut
the door behind them.

Sit down,
the nun said,
and peered at Mary
with her dark eyes.

Mary sat and looked
at her hands in her lap.

I saw you smoking
by the cycle sheds,
the nun said,
and smoking is not permitted
in the school or grounds.

Was I smoking?
Mary said,
don't recall smoking,
may have been
the cold air;
sometimes when you
breathe out it looks
like smoke,
but it's just cold air.

It was smoke;
I saw you stub out
the cigarette
and flick it away,
the nun said,
walking in front of Mary,
hands tucked inside
her black habit
out of sight.

Was it a cigarette?
I had gum;
you may have seen me
flick that away,
Mary suggested.

The nun stood still;
stony faced.

It was a cigarette I saw,
the nun stated.

I see,
Mary said,
funny what you can forget,
if you're not paying attention
to what you're doing,
could have sworn
it was gum.

IT WAS A CIGARETTE,
the nun bellowed,
flushing at the face,
her hands out at her sides,
flapping like wings
of fledgling bird.

Don't be telling me
it was gum,
the nun said
her voice softer,
held in check
after the bellowing,
remembering her vows,
her Christ like vocation.

You're probably right,
Sister,
I'll see the priest
and put it onto
the sin list
I've to tell him
in confessions,
Mary said,
keeping her face
straight as she could.

The nun breathed deeply,
eyed the girl,
if you'd been a boy,
I'd have you caned
for your manners,
but as your not,
you can see me
after school at detention.

Mary nodded her head
and stood up and said,
can I go now?
You know what
the Bridget is like
if we're late?

The nun stilled her wings,
and nodded her head,
and watched as the girl
sauntered off out
of the room and away.

The nun crossed herself,
muttered a short prayer,
rubbed her rosary,
to get her through
another day.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i love the reflection of those times in this...went to catholic grade school...and remember how we used to get in trouble for sneaking out of the line heading for benediction...and how we hid under the buses hoping not to get caught...but we always did...and the knuckles still feel the rulers...

thanks for a glimpse of the past...and this is so smoothly done....a great story poem---

now, excuse me, Terry, i need to put out my gum.

j.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, jacob.

[zainul]

A lively piece presenting an important event of past.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, zainul

[zainul]

You are always welcome.