During the final minutes of the raid
Miss Nurvak made us kneel with our heads buried
Between our knees -- the blast that ruined our lives
Was her yardstick breaking in half and confetti
She shreaded over us was fallout. One boy threw up
Cheerios beneath his desk and then ran from class
with wet pants. The rest of us survived the drill
for milk and cookies during Miss Nurvak's nightmare
sermon on the Red Menace.
Miss Nurvak,
Who said we had nothing to fear but fear itself
Was scared half-to-death. The shelter beneath her garden
Was stocked with canned goods and sterilized water,
Rations against the coming days of radioactive ash.
In gas mask and green fatigues, Miss Nurvak
Would needlepoint and listen to the gramophone
Unitl the fatal firestorms passed and she raised
Her periscope, searching for pupils
From the lost second grade.
So life was more serious than I thought.
And it was Miss Nurvak who made me want to be a man
As hard and strong as the stone man on the stallion
In the park, the general with epaulets of pigeon shit.
I imagined myself in crash helmet and bulletproof vest,
Miss Nurvak's periscope rising from the blackened grass:
How happy she would be to see a successful graduate
Of Central Elementary who had not been reduced to ash,
Whose ideals had not been shaken by the atomic blast,
Who pushed the culprit forward with his bayonet,
A boy with wet pants.
Miss Nurvak made us kneel with our heads buried
Between our knees -- the blast that ruined our lives
Was her yardstick breaking in half and confetti
She shreaded over us was fallout. One boy threw up
Cheerios beneath his desk and then ran from class
with wet pants. The rest of us survived the drill
for milk and cookies during Miss Nurvak's nightmare
sermon on the Red Menace.
Miss Nurvak,
Who said we had nothing to fear but fear itself
Was scared half-to-death. The shelter beneath her garden
Was stocked with canned goods and sterilized water,
Rations against the coming days of radioactive ash.
In gas mask and green fatigues, Miss Nurvak
Would needlepoint and listen to the gramophone
Unitl the fatal firestorms passed and she raised
Her periscope, searching for pupils
From the lost second grade.
So life was more serious than I thought.
And it was Miss Nurvak who made me want to be a man
As hard and strong as the stone man on the stallion
In the park, the general with epaulets of pigeon shit.
I imagined myself in crash helmet and bulletproof vest,
Miss Nurvak's periscope rising from the blackened grass:
How happy she would be to see a successful graduate
Of Central Elementary who had not been reduced to ash,
Whose ideals had not been shaken by the atomic blast,
Who pushed the culprit forward with his bayonet,
A boy with wet pants.
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