Anger

“What a funny looking circle,” I say
and I catch hold of your hand.
It is small and sticky in mine
and I wonder -briefly- where it’s been.

It is afternoon and you’re all ready for a story
Once upon a time…
As I start to read
a hush falls over the class.

Then, out of the corner of my eye
I see him, prodding at you
trying hard
to get a reaction.

And you sit there,
silently shaking,
pent up aggression
leant to you by your angry mum.

There is something courageous
in how you hold yourself so tightly
and I wonder at such strength
in one so small.

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