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I’m 55 years old, stalking the bare cement Halls for my lost students, misplaced Somewhere before the bell, how can pupils Go missing climbing to the second floor Though the afternoon air has turned biting And gray, coal sooty. My colleague has disappeared too, along with The chalk, I’ve forgotten today’s lesson My hair is white in the mirror on the landing My slacks are tight, later the kids lay their heads On their folded arms, stare out the ravaged Windows, lean together like rotten fence posts Defeated by my explanations. The waning moon cuts the roof of the next building As I descend, my breath showing already on the stairs Sagging green sweater pulled close At least only two teeth are crowned and my stockings Don’t bag, I taught the whole class Adam smiled once. Emily Strauss |
