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Poem: O Grafton, Mrs. Grafton

O Grafton, Mrs. Grafton, I can’t believe my eyes
This memo from HR tells us we must “incentivize” ...

By
Gertrude Hink, Writing for

Poem: O Grafton, Mrs. Grafton

 

O Grafton, Mrs. Grafton, I can’t believe my eyes
This memo from HR tells us we must “incentivize”
We’ll “leverage change,” “repurpose staff” - do work that is “impactful”
(Can I tell them that they’re morons or would that not be too tactful?)
Were they in vain, your efforts
To put knowledge in my head?
For on boardroom floors our language lies
Fallen cold and dead

If only you could teach again, our language could be saved
But you’ve “transitioned” from this world, your body has been “graved”
If I could find your resting place and if I could unbury ya
You’d bring some order to this snarl and end the anthimeria
But dictionaries lie unused
And style books go unread
For they, like my dear teacher, now are
Fallen cold and dead

O Grafton, Mrs. Grafton, just your name revives my senses
You taught us syntax, cases, moods, parts of speech, and tenses
You taught us how to punctuate and to diagram a sentence
Now lawless scoundrels break all rules with no show of repentance
Perhaps they never had the counsel
Of one so kind and wise
Who taught that language can inspire
And never ever dies

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The Hurl
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About the Author

Gertrude Hink, Writing for Grammar Girl

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