“Is there a reason for this?” she asks

and her question drifts

on the sweaty menstrual fug. 

Girls nudge each other, snigger and snide

as her cheeks heat to a thousand degrees. 

Miss Nixon, Bachelor of Arts, Spinster of Spite,

turns from the board, eyes slitting, mouth ticking.

She puffs out, then sucks in her skinny bosom.

“I was just wondering if there is a reason for this or…?” 

She locks eyes with Miss Nixon

and several hours pass in five seconds. 

The class stares at the open page

or the wall where a poster about Beckett

is just beginning to part company with its blutac. 

Felicity Sutcliffe hopes there will be chips for lunch

and Jane Curtis has forgotten to take her pill.

“I couldn’t not ask,” murmurs the questioner

and holds Miss Nixon’s gaze,

waiting, waiting….for the sun

or Godot.