english teachers.

They come and go
As they wish.

First she walked in with her gong
Shocked us all into respect
or was it awe for the
way she maneuvered
her way around a classroom
full of hearts young enough
to shatter
but full enough to set off
like a gas range left alone.
She set the match to our fumes.
But then she packed up her gong,
traded it in for a cross and a staff
she now leads a flock in spokane.

She walked in like lolz,
omg obvi I'm preggos.
She took the english language
ripped it to shreds in her hands
wrote posts about us
sheltered, naive, ignorant.
Maybe we wouldn't be,
if you had taught us.
We never needed another
babysitter.

She was a backup,
mid year, post trauma.
Regimented essays
drawn out for months,
each indent a cave worth
exploring. There is no beauty
in the way you bore the
words to death.

She walked into a room
where she could provide nothing
but disappointment.
Reprinted prompts
recycled essays
nothing in my mind will ever be new.

You haven't come yet.
I have resigned myself to looking for you.
I'm not sure if you have a gong
or your own set of matches.
But my fingers crave readjustment,
my mind demands something more.