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.