Poetry by H.E. Fisher

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​
SALLY, DICK, AND JANE: A PRE-PRIMER 

See me in first grade.
My teacher Mrs. W 
makes the class read
Sally, Dick, and Jane.
We read to learn to read.

I live near the ocean.
I learn to read the light
to tell time.

When Sally, Dick, and Jane play outside
it is bright and sunny.
The light on every page is the same
even when people in the book are inside.

                                ~

See Sally and Jane wear dresses.
I wear dresses, too.
This is the rule
for every school-age girl in town.
Jane plays dress-up. 
I do not understand why any girl 
would want to play dress-up.
We are always dressed up.

Jane wears a long dress -
is it her mom’s? -
with a hat, heels, pearls, and gloves.
She carries a purse.
Dick puts on the hat and carries the purse, too.
This is the first time I see a boy play dress-up.

                              ~

See the school play Mrs. W wrote. 
It is called Little Indians.
Mrs. W tells the girls they are squaws
and the boys are braves.
The squaws and braves 
must sit in a circle and sing.

Mrs. W tells the braves
to stand up and walk offstage.
I stand up and walk offstage.
Mrs. W makes me stand in the corner
and face the wall as punishment 
for not doing what she said to do.
I thought she had said, “Stand if you’re brave.”
I have never been punished before.
I am a good girl.

                             ~

See me be bored. 
Sally, Dick, and Jane is too easy to read. 
See me skip ahead
to the last page.
Each pupil takes a turn reading a page from the book.
When Mrs. W calls on me to read, I am lost. 
Mrs. W hollers at me for being lost.
No one has ever hollered at me. 
My parents holler at each other sometimes.

                               ~

Mrs. W has the class read Sally, Dick, & Jane
over and over, every day.
It bothers me 
that Sally asks for help,
that Jane asks Dick to help Sally,
that Sally asks her dog Spot for help,
that Sally is helpless.

Mrs. W has the class stand and face 
the American flag every day, too.
We must put our hands on our hearts
and say, I pledge
like a pinky swear
like a swear on our mothers’ lives
like a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die swear.

                              ~

Mrs. W says all pupils
must read Sally, Dick, and Jane to learn to read.
Only people with white skin are in the book.
I think the book has a secret like a swear
to make pupils learn 
Sally, Dick, and Jane are everybody.
But they are some people, not all people.
I do not trust the book.

                               ~

See Sally, Dick, and Jane be demanding.

Go! 

Help! 

Look! 

Come here! 

Get down! 

Jump!

It is a book of demands. 

Mrs. W makes demands of her pupils. 
If we meet her demand, we will get
a gold, blue, or red star. 
Gold is best. Blue is good. Red is do better.
I get red stars more often than not.

When I grow up, I want to write a story
about a girl who thinks constellations
are a single star in a kind of shape: 
a belt, a lion, a dipper. 
She can never read the stars.
I do not want to get a gold, blue, or red star.
I do not like Mrs. W. 
It is better not to get a star.
It is better not to read them. 

                               ~ ~ ~




SALLY, DICK, AND JANE, AND DAD

See Sally in the book at bedtime.
Sally’s Mom turns out the light.
At night, my mom is at work 
or sick in hospital.
Dad, not Mom, turns 
out the light. 

Dad sits in the dark and waits 
for me to fall asleep.
He says he sits and stays 
so that I will not be afraid of the dark.

                              ~

It is easy to see things in day.
Day is busy.
Night has things, too, 
but they are harder to see--
except for stars and dim planets.
Night is still,
but when Dad sits in the dark 
he moves it.

                                ~

When Sally, Dick, or Jane 
are in peril, they say, Help! Go! Run!
There is a bedtime secret.
The secret is like a swear
that I should trust Dad,
that I should love Dad,
that I should not say, Help! Go! Run! 

                             ~

At bedtime, I think of Mom
at work or in hospital, 
alive or dead.
Mom alive or dead 
is the bedtime story I tell myself
to not think about Dad
who sits in the dark 
and moves it.
                             ~ ~ ~




JANE, MOM, AND ME IN BETWEEN

See Dick and Jane watch TV.
They watch a show about a clown.
See little sister Sally move 
a chair in front of the TV
and sit down on it.
Now Dick and Jane cannot see the show. 
See Dick get mad. 
Dick’s face is mad
like it has an ! at the end of it. 

Come here. 
Come here, Sally.

Sally stays put.
See Dick grab Sally’s chair and tip it.
See him drag Sally away from the TV.
Now Sally is afraid.

Help! Help! 
Oh, Jane. 
Help me.

Jane does not help Sally.
Instead, she covers 
her mouth with her hand 
and smiles.

A smile under a hand
is less than a smile: 
it is in between.

This story ends here.
A new, happy story begins 
on the next page. 

In Sally, Dick, and Jane, there is no 
beginning, middle, end:
the book is in between.

                             ~

There is a cat named Puff 
in Sally, Dick, and Jane.
Puff jumps up on Sally’s bed at bedtime.
This makes Sally mad.
Sally’s face is mad
like it has an ! at the end of it. 

Get down.
Get down, Puff.

See her swat Puff with her hand.

It makes me feel funny 
to see a person in a book 
get so mad.

It makes me feel funny 
that the only time Sally gets mad
is at bedtime.

                                ~

When we read Sally, Dick, and Jane in 
our first grade class, 
our teacher Mrs. W never says 
that Sally and Dick get mad.

[Jane never gets mad; she smiles.
Jane almost always smiles.]

I think Mrs. W thinks it is bad to say
that Sally and Dick get mad.

Mrs. W gets mad. A lot. There is a big ! at the end of her face.

                               ~

See Mom watch the news on TV 
and get mad.
Mom is an activist.
She says, I am fixing the world so you will be safe!

I do not think that our home 
is in the world Mom is fixing.
I think she thinks home is safe.

I do not know if Mom knows
to be mad in our home,
that when Dad tucks me in,
he waits for me to fall asleep, 
that he sits in the dark and moves it.

I do not know if Mom knows
to be mad or if she is like Jane
and covers-

covers
and does not talk

covers
and does not hear

covers
and does not see.

Mom keeps me safe and does not keep me safe.
Mom is in between.

               ~

See me mad at bedtime
in between the covers,
my face under my hands
to keep the dark away. 

              ~ ~ ~

​

H.E. Fisher’s poems, prose poems, and essays are forthcoming or have appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic, Miracle Monocle, SWWIM, Canary, Yes Poetry, The Rumpus, Pithead Chapel, and The Hopper, among other publications. H.E. has been a finalist in the 2020-21 Comstock Review Chapbook Contest and a semi-finalist in the Grayson Books Chapbook Contest. She is pursuing her MFA at City College of New York, where she was awarded The Stark Poetry Prize in Memory of Raymond Patterson; she also studies at the Hudson Valley Writers Center. H.E. is editor of (Re) An Ideas Journal. She lives in New York's Hudson River Valley.

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