英语文学与艺术：诗歌TheCorrection

by Frannie Lindsay

When I got it wrong at school—missed

a word， could not recite

the long division tables—I would lock

my knees beneath my little plywood desk

in back where all the tall ones sat，

and sneak my uniform sleeve up

and bite down on my forearm， make myself

keep quiet， doing that， not

crying； gnashing hard with my gapped teeth

until the dotted "O" sunk in

because I couldn‘t hold my breath，

so had to clench my skin while no sobs flayed

my lungs： those lightless rooms

where loud girls kept themselves，

and stayed unsorry.