She dabs blue, then red
onto the canvas her monkey 
has dragged through the dirt,
his yesterday toy, now turned into an absurd
painting of poseys.

We giggle secretly into our smocks, 
but being obedient students,
chant 'Monet' (in unison), when asked
who was the greatest French artist,
feed her monkey cheese bits 
and endure her old lady's breath
when she paints over our imitations
of Chagall.

©2002 Pris Campbell

game

I have no game -
I play the games
that others have asked me to play;
They tell me their rules
and I play, or choose not to.
I've played lots of games,
and had fun, but I don't have
a game of my own.
Someday, I may stop playing
and make up my own game,
and then spend all my time
making sure I write down
all the rules!