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From my windy heart
I watch as the imagist nun
kneels a pose
for the students she rules.
The schoolyard weeps
its smog on the shrieking
black girls this last day.
Careless teens jig and bob
in the circle we make.
Gossip stings the wilting
teachers who smile bitterly
to their paychecking ends.
They applaud their Sister
Lupe's moves and glare
at the newcomer who dances
with a Catholic chalice.
copyright 2004
Marcielle
Brandler |
