Large girl, eleven,
built like a fifteen year old,
hardest on the yard.
The fear is palpable.
a contagion of confused thinking
spreads across each page like a storm
that will only blow itself out
on the other side of the classroom door.
All year she has been propped up,
walked blindfolded through sums and sentences.
Here she is floored, on her own,
and her own is hardly anything at all.
One Helix eraser held in the palm of my hand
is all I can offer, and a handkerchief
as her tears start to flow.