Zimmer's Head Thudding Against the Blackboard
At the blackboard I had missed
Five number problems in a row,
And was about to foul a sixth
When the old, exasperated nun
Began to pound my head against
My six mistakes. When I wept,
She threw me back into my seat,
Where I hid my head and swore
That very day I'd be a poet,
And curse her yellow teeth with this.
A curse poem that is also a bit of an ars poetica, in fact: here's why I became a poet, and here's what poetry is for.