The last time I saw a boy
Dragged by his lug ’ole to
Stand outside
The Headmaster’s Office
Was half-a lifetime ago
Mr Laing caught
The unfortunate Franklyn
With stolen items
From the school tuck-shop
Tucked imperfectly in his
Worn-leather music case
The innocent Franklyn, named
Benjamin, made no sound
He had grown used
To being accused of the ills
Of America, even its creation, by
Sixth Form historian, Carl
The older boys with their muscles
And well-developed acne
Vietnam fatigues and Dylan
Graffiti on their exercise books
Demonstrated their outrage at
Lynchings at Carl’s command
Carl, window pole in hand
Inserted it through Benjamin’s blazer
And hung it, and its sudden owner
By the tall pegs in the
Cricket pavilion
Across the field from the school
It was the ever-watchful Laing
That detected silence
During after-games registration
And searched for the missing voice
…His wrath descending
Upon the culprit, Carl
Now subjected to the truth
Of his participation
In the ills of America
That lie in us all
Apart, that is, from
Innocent B. Franklyn
