There was a time erasers still erased.
I sat down to my homework with that pink-
Tipped promise of forgiveness, and I chased
It as I wrote, a bob-and-weave, a wink,

A cheery, armless “you-can-do-it” waving—
The kind of swirls I made writing my name
With sparklers on summer nights, engraving
The sky with fire. And then it would reclaim

My errors, making crumbs I brushed away. 
Until they stopped. Erasers started leaving
Gray smudges, making holes that would betray 
Anything less than perfect. I stopped believing

In the notebook paper’s gleaming white expanse,
In yellow pencils and a second chance.