Homeschool. Kenge, mid-1960s

The table is large and I am small, learning my lessons
The invisible council of elders rules concerning my lessons

The books fly in from faraway lands, foreign birds and jingles
I am wrapped in papermade parables, yearning for lessons

My mother in flour and steel lap-teaches my morning
Till doorknocks and dayneeds collide, overturning my lessons

All flloor-spread my sister reigns, pointing, showing me brightshapes
Morphing to wordbites—for her I am churning through lessons

The living room linoleum a river of hopscotch math cards
Flash-learning, flip-turning, learning, relearning these lessons

Out of broomstick and bag a hobbyhorse, one week a live goat
And from cardboard, arduous, a sundial, burning in lessons

Daily my mother, low-flying, declaiming, makes star appearances 
Till it’s time for real school, forever adjourning those lessons

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