And writhe now,
my lesson plan reads exactly like your lisp,
only that it loathes for my future daughter.
Most, not really, but some days are exploring notes on how I have no idea
how the world began somehow.
Humans tend to start a poem
with an and, or a comma,
after all
we are birthed from His image.
The birds within my pupil were constantly fed.
I felt my mind wrapped around empty fruit bowls,
yet I had to work this promised station of a body, 8-5.
This one afternoon, a boy, still processing the world just as much is what I am.
Days go by, same old indifference grew,
like slate gray skies lingering past New Year.
After the Big Bang, after the ''Change'' by Big Thief, after you.
My lesson plan reads exactly like this—
Choose between Miss Believer and Miss Misery.
Stupid pupil, what is it today?
