For Former Pupils

For my former pupils,

I entered a contest

to write about comfort

[Ironic, given the times, if you ask me]

But I acquiesced, studied the craft,

Now here we both are, hopefully.

I’ve learned, via venues, you, pupils,

are all well about the world. Know,

Comfort, I find, in your successes

Cheer in your special announcements,

Contentment in your engagements

your promotions placate

Joy witnessing your dreams arrive to fruition.

I succored the notes, kept the cards,

Held onto cornered doodles. From above, I wrapped up in flags,

crafted from your origin, used for experiments

I packed it all up into a box

Shut off the monitor

Turned a key.

And left.

.

Now,

I’ve entered a vocal contest

[poetry none the less]

to find comfort in the grief.

With scoured reflection, the only solace

I found is garnered in the echo of you, my former pupils.

I want to capture every reverberation of memory like I would

an insect. Handle the comfort of it

with delicate precision, pinned in motion,

paper-thin preservation, wax pressed. Catalogued.

Collected. Studied

on display in full, scrutinizing beauty.

But I can’t.

Because I am no poet.

I only teach science.

.

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