Back to School
You leave your reef to swim to a new school
where currents move on courses unfamiliar,
some fish as huge as whales, some minuscule.
The ocean here is deeper and much chillier
than you are used to. Students speak in tinkles,
groans, purrs, or clicks. Some jellyfish are frillier
than gaudy drapes. For lunch are periwinkles,
kelp salad, and a clamwich. You feel odder
than that! An eel says, “Are you new?” and wrinkles
her nose at you. You couldn’t be distraughter.
The math is hazy, history unclear.
You feel just like a minnow out of water!
But then a puffer whispers in your ear,
“You’re flippin’ fine — just splash through your first
year!”
Martin Elster
If you have any thoughts about this
poem,
Martin Elster
would like to hear them
