fourth grade, a name — Hugh? — a small boy
the teacher said he died of a weak heart
I pictured a white shirt, a pale featureless face
he’d been absent so often I remembered
nothing much, a moving shape, & no one
not a single fourth grader mourned him
we didn’t know what grief was — oh, perhaps
some knew it, but not for this small
gone-away-forever boy — we moved on
would it have been long-division? or coloring
maps of far away countries? green for forests
yellow for growing grain, pale brown for sand
where camels plodded past dunes — the priest
came three times a week to read the next
chapter of Narnia books, the frightened
yet brave children, the stern lion — the priest
never explained how lions & witches
taught us religion, we thought him
dangerously peculiar, & we worried
he’d be taken away before the children
made it home, instead, the school year
ended, I found the books at the library
read to the end & then back to the beginning
& back to the end again, fifth grade brought
a different priest, in fifth grade no one died
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