No Child’s Behind Left

I can’t do everything administration tells me to do:
I can’t leave them behind while I run
With the string,
“Fly, damn it, fly!”

I can’t only see their writing
As a succession of errors:
The stuff they get right
Makes me cry.

I can’t count each time their subjects
And verbs agree:
Sometimes there is magic in those arguments.

I can’t sit still in staff meetings:
They give us chairs that spin.

I can’t always speak with authority:
They can put me in my place.

I can’t pluck sweet fruits
From their fingers
Then smear them on an IEP.

I can’t quiet my stage whispers, my dancing
Eyebrows, my screaming fingers.

I can’t always land on my feet:
Sometimes I can’t find the ground at all.