The waves of cursive wallpaper her front
double check the last line, not font but front
her dull concentration split into three
whose shadows told more than what the scribbles present
her posture slumped, in despair as she tried.
The lesson was simple, to others it seemed
but to her blended, blurred, triumphant and mean
jumbled, mixed up, messed, all in disarray.
The black and the white lost in translation
left becomes right, and up turns to down
mathematics hard, it's markings without sound
The fog hides the meaning, swift and precise
though capable, articulate and smart.
Her hair back tight, holding her loosened mind
repetitive checks if its really just "fine".
She has failed, she has missed, one letter was off,
if they just went straight, not strange and in grooves,
roaming the world, the field, all in floods.
The fog, or the dog was hurting her still,
the rest of the room silent to her small back,
the clock of the tick matching her light tap.
An archaeologist of her own board
digging to bottom, finding more layers unfold,
a dysfunction, a dyslexic strange light
a dismembered sentence, anxious and bright.
The big picture everyone else gets to see
the giant filter blending, chopping anew
so the mumbles flip and change, a fresh mistake
swirling her mind, the letters that just don't fit
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