Report Card

My parents paid me ten dollars

for every A I got.

Trudging my way home from school,

clutching the B’s and C’s,

their bank account had nothing to fear.

My sister laughed, claimed she’d be rich.

I slowed my steps, delaying

the shove into the lion’s den

knowing the roars would deafen.

I showed the report to my parents

pointing out the one good comment

“Plays well with others.”

Holding the card, they looked at me

with eyes that ached and shattered

and then conversed, deciding my fate

for the summer, my time of playing.

I sat in the cold metal chair

and waited for the decision

of what needed to be done.

I know I could have done much better,

and plead that the next time I will.

Don’t take away my summer,

repeated in my head,

please don’t take away all my fun.

As I await their answer

I look down at my fingers sitting

entwined on top of my small lap,

for they play well with others too.