Friday, August 20, 2021

Poem: August 10, 2021

Teacher Tired

If you do it right, teacher tired

is the kind of tired you feel

after hosting an eight hour party


in which the guests laugh

and find your home so very

charming, and you must share


your secrets, as this space

seems to insist on growing 

louder of its own happy accord


while you flit from corner 

to corner checking on the guests,

even the quiet ones who


like to sit there and take it

all in, clearly in it, but not going

to make the same splash,


demur and detached while

The rest of them gather 

hungrily around the spread


of questions you’ve laid out, 

and if they eat it all up, there you

are, landing just long enough


to drop some accelerant onto

fading fires, another round into

empty glasses, then FOOM, 


off to find another circle 

that has settled into silence,

like some darting thought fairy,


peppering the room with glittering

big ideas until the bell rings and

everyone, smiling and bleary,


makes their way towards the door.


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