Bring out the pottery boy
Mr A said
bring it out front
so the other boys can see

your work
I took out my clay pottery
attempt to the front of class
and stood there

holding the pottery
on a wooden tray
Mr A gazed at me
through his black framed

Beatnik glasses
his eyes like huge marbles
what you call this
huh boy?

I looked at the hand rolled
clay ***
haven't called it
anything yet

I said
thinking of a name
he went stern eyed at me
are we attempting wit

as well as pottery?
He said
a mild titter
from some boys

in the class
here
he said
in a raised voice

like a failed actor
here we have
an example how not
and I repeat NOT

to make a ***
the classroom went quiet
I stared at my ***
lopsided and brown

like a rushed ****
what were you attempting?
Mr A asked
whatever it was

it most certainly was not
a ***
I said nothing
I gazed at him

in his snot green jumper
and Beatnik beard
and brown
corduroy trousers

and sandals
I don't know
why I bother
with pupils like you boy

he said
waste of my time
I stood looking
passed him at Danny

who was boss eyed
and pulling a face
I suppressed a smile
and looked dull

go back to your place
and spare me
the sad boy look
so I returned to my desk

with my ***
leaning further east
and placed it down gently
as if it were some work

of modern art
Mr A then poked
Eddie in the back
and held up his ***

which went in and out
like armless model
of Greek design
worse

Mr A said
than mine.