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December 9, 2022

In an English Class

Not the faux wind-up

of adverbs and gerunds

nor the screech of chalk

and the dizziness of dust,

but a teacher who offers

the seismic truth in paradox,

the tingling wrapped up

in the round box of ambiguity,

the spell of allusion placed before us,

like the anticipation of Thanksgiving,

like an actor in a spotlight.

She alters the present

of what we think we know,

showing us how irony

bends and breaks a line or script.

A simple gift, like a necklace

or carving. Something to expand

the sclera in our eyes,

to follow the words after each dash—

to share, always, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

and Great Expectations with others,

like light that exceeds the breadth

of a chalkboard, like drops that lift away

film from our sight.


© the author

by Mark D. Bennion

Mark D. Bennion lives in the shadow of the Teton Mountain Range, working at Brigham Young University-Idaho. His poems have appeared or will appear in Aethlon, Christianity & Literature, RHINO, Sijo, Windhover, and other journals. His most recent collection is Beneath the Falls: Poems. He and his wife, Kristine, are trying to figure out how to parent one adult child, three teenagers, and one tween. They welcome your advice.

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