A crostics, the poems assigned to school
C hildren because they don’t yet know how to
R hyme or count syllables—the teachers tool
O nce they’ve learned their letters and the first few
S ounds that blend together to make up words.
T imothy begins with the letter ‘T’
‘I’ follows next, just like a string of birds
C rammed together on a wire: 1, 2, 3.
S omehow, the words are supposed to display
R eal things about them, like Timmy is ‘T’ired
L ucy is ‘L’ucky. But neither can spell
A nd god help the poor children who have a
‘Z’ in their name—worse if they’ve required
Y ou to do your middle and last as well.