Tuesday, August 22, 2023

First Death

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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