ONCE THE BELL RANG It didn't matter if they called him names. Objects bounced off his nose: pen caps, erasers, single staples, a notebook. Miracles. He was surrounded by miracles. It all became simple. Another world unscrewed its top; the substitute peered inside, smiling. It all started one day in an ice cream parlor, a featherbed, an orange grove and tightly swaddled in cotton fibers it rode home sweating & fussy. A light snow fell on Thanksgiving. A dream exploded in tears. A baseball hat got lost in the attic. Two fingers smashed in the door hinge, moaning. It happened all at once, over a matter of years. It happened in the hearts & minds of neighbors, relatives, a substitute teacher on a Tuesday, mid-morning. It didn't matter, twenty-nine of them filed out of the room; a white coat hurried in, taking his pulse. It was normal but beautiful. Mysteries reveal themselves time and again and this time he was waiting. Next he'd be ready. |
ONCE THE BELL RANG Peter |
No one remembers A substitute teacher, but everyone remembers THE substitute teacher. The whores of the industry. I tricked for three years, butconsidering "Once The Bell Rang" was written while a Bio class went to hell all around me, unnoticeddon't anymore. I took my $60 & this poem and got out clean. Be nice to someone todaythey just might be a sub. Anyway, they could probably use it. |