Friday afternoons, Sister Philomena
taught us music
and how to fear it,
and excused no child to the lavatory.
Ever.
I’m a child who couldn’t wait,
a chilling statue in a chair-pool of pee
minutes before the home-time bell.
Skirt
and Sister
will slap
and shame me without mercy.
My friend beside me
slips her coat around my waist,
knots the sleeves
like a hug.
And walks me home.