Glorious Guilt
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My father and a group of friends, all sons of immigrants, (literally) ditched school for about three years from 1920 - 1923 in Kenosha, WI. When finally they were caught, they all cried bitterly, but within a few months, they had all learned English and acclimated to the challenges of the schoolroom and the schoolyard...
On the side of a path branching off from the road
expectations of glorious guilt mount
makeshift trenches housing truants, anxiously counting
the seconds 'til school officers call off the hunt...
Free at last at 9:30 to pursue puerile passions
constructing lean-tos in trees, small campsites nearby
They'd burn down the bush in a heartbeat if only
their consciences would forget how to sigh
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2023
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