September by Samantha Hunt

The teacher comes to
usher you from class
with a forced smile.
My hand grips your
book bag
before there
is time
to argue.
Your feet shuffle
across the gravel
path to the waiting taxi;
it’s engine spluttering,
then rattling with
a heady resignation.
You stop before the
car, digging your
toes into the
playground, the tiny breath
of your ‘no’ bursting
in the almost
Autumn air-
My arms around
your back guiding
you toward the
click of the child-locks
springing free.

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