We’re sandwiched between
the dusty chalkboard
and the black magic wardrobe
filled to overflow with
course outlines, vocabulary lists
broken paper backs and stacks
of razor edged manilla folders
stuffed with essential questions.
Side by side at the computer table
teetering on wobbly plastic chairs
mug of coffee long cold,
we’re invisible to passersby in the hall.
Was it chance that charted her daily
pilgrimage past my classroom
during prep period?
Lingering doorway hellos evolved
to stilted standing chatter
about immigrant grandparents
and twin siblings,
thin athletic academic stars,
popular perfection incarnate,
everything she believed she was not.
Weeks passed before I invited her
to sit at the cloistered desk
with me uncertain of her desire
to disclose her perfect contrition.
With chipped polished fingers curled
around the hem of her sleeve she tugged
upward ’til the gauzy folds of her blouse
nestled in the crook of her elbow revealed,
neatly spaced as railroad ties,
the sorrow of her soul.
INSCAPE, WASHBURN UNIVERSITY #110. MAY, 2023
Elise Chadwick 