Multiplication

Next!

Seven sevens?

Forty- nine!

The teacher’s stick waves like a baton in an orchestra

Is there a rhythm to multiplication tables?

Agnes Donnelly falters on seven eights.

Agnes is five students down the line.

Two whooshes, the rise and fall of the baton,

The descent- of shorter duration.

If teacher side-angles the stick

And your hand makes contact with the edge

The slap is searing.

Agnes lets out a wail.

Her left hand cradles her wounded palm

She raises it to her lips and tastes blood.

Next!

Seven eights?

Fifty six- like a greyhound out of the trap.

The cane dances to the tune of a Strauss’ waltz.

Next!

Seven nines?

Alice Casey never knows

Her palms are hardened to the cane

She says if you rub vinegar on them before the performance

You feel nothing

The baton descends

Silence

Next!

Seven nines?

Two classmates between me and the cane

Seven ones is seven

Seven twos is fourteen

Seven threes is…

Sixty-three!

Seven tens is easy

Seven elevens is easier

Next! 

Seven twelves is me.

Add seven to seventy- seven

Seven fours is…

seven fives is...

A warm trickle between my thighs

The teacher is pulling out my hand.

My arm is numb. My fingers clenched

She is prising the fingers out one by one

But they curl inwards again

She is standing at her full height

The trickle has reached my knees, my calves

The baton dips but the knuckles dive

The swish of loose sleeve

The back of her ringed hand 
Strikes my cheek bone

Seventy seven plus seven is eighty- four

My ears are ringing

Too! Slow!

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2019