Third period requiem

Marsden was a cranky old man.

Marsden taught textile design in the cold,

Dank space located in the basement

Adjacent to the smelly toilets of the 3-

Story redbrick schoolhouse.

Marsden had whiskey in his thermos,

His mouth exhaling a sour breath which

Saturated the inner walls of our budding nostrils.

The index finger of his right hand was missing,

Sliced-off by a blade used to cut away the stubborn,

Tangled thread of a stalled shuttle some 40 years back.

Splatters of blood once stained a creaking manual loom,

But we didn’t know which one if it sat in the classroom.

Marsden was hunched-over with a bad back

And by the time we got to him, nearing retirement.

But he died first.

Maybe he bled to death.

Maybe it was a measured bloodletting;

An external bleeding in for the long haul.

Principal Robert Nagle announced his demise

Over the school’s cracking speakers

As we rushed like a band of lunatics

To the cafeteria; on the menu:

Franks and beans with tapioca dessert.

Two shriveled frankfurters

Forked over from a pan of hot,

Stagnant water,—

A ladle-full of pork and beans

Soaked in their own viscous, khaki-

Colored sauce, topped-off

With a paste of translucent nodules

Listed on the blackboard as "tapioca"

Pre-spooned into little semi-opaque plastic cups.

A fitting sendoff meal for Marsden

And Marsden deserved no less, no more, no better. amen.


 the Fall River Public Schools
 circa 1956