Our Athena
she hovered around the classsroom
slender somber face
short grey boy-cut hair
glasses perched on her nose
every day
the same pink cotton dress
with the starched Peter Pan collar
shirtwaist, hem below her knees
every day
in winter
the same grey wool blazer with matching skirt
white shirt, little red necktie
comfortable shoes
every day
was it the familiar feel of cotton or wool on
her skin, the safety of repitition
every morning
before she faced a room full of expectant
sixth grade faces waiting for her
wisdom for the comfort of her voice?
she sent my first story to
a magazine she
saw me before I saw myself
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love a good teacher poem