Getting Stressed

For weekend homework: ‘This Is How I Spend My Day’.

This one poor soul spends ulcerated hours

in captive state, occasionally gazing at the sun

and poring over Term Task Three.

Come first thing Monday here we are, awaiting little speeches:

small after-breakfast anecdotes of infant life.

And up she stands, eyes darting, white knuckles,

scrunching up her Meisterwerk. The audience hushes.

“I get up and get stressed” and pause for thought.

“I’m sorry dear? What was that again?

I think she means ‘get dressed’, don’t you?”

Completely, wholly, absolutely: no.