Poem By Hasmukh Amathalal
We label the parts of a flower,
the pistil, petals and stem
in faint blue books we were given
and told to stamp with our names.
One boy raises his hand like a flag
then decides to pull it straight down
when he catches sight of the teacher gazing
outside with an out of place frown.
The boy turns on the book with his pen
to scratch the stamen clean off of the page.
The teacher comes over, clips the wing
of his ear, asking 'What are you doing young man? '
The boy looks up, says nothing and thinks
'Teacher you taught me last week, before lunch,
we're all either woman or man'.