Lecture Language

Body language is more than a cue,
More than a wave of the hand or arms.
It often speaks as the name begets,
Inflicting pain or mouthing charm.

It is the instructor telling her class,
"I shouldn't work harder than you,"
While cupping her eyes
At the lower lip of their lids.

Nosing up. Staring down.

Wearing down the academe
Who would not dare to make a scene
Because the son at home is hungry,
And Momma needs to make more money.

Baby boy can't milk the breast of
Promise and degree for long.
He wants the taste of stress and sweat
As much as the next helpless child.

Maybe that's why
Toddlers would crawl through mazes like mice
To come upon a few sweet treats
Because they are sick of Momma's tired teet.

But she will work harder than the voice across the room.

The ode to seniority.
The air of superiority
Which reduces Momma to a sponging mind and pencil.

Whose task for now
Is looking up longingly at the security
That hovers over the instructor's head
Like a halo.

Like hungry dogs,
Like hungry baby boy,
Who think with their tummies,
Who do not know any better.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Another Shift

Today was the first day that I chose to sit in the shade. I'd gotten so used to having the sun on me that the darker side of things felt eerily cold. Though it was far from winter, I felt deeply shaken and unsettled, uprooted from comfort. The pillars around me provided stripes of cover much like trees in a forest. Above me was a canopy that these pillars held up, and tiny beams of sunlight peaked through to reach me. I chose to be patient today. I chose not to rush from building to building, from class to class, from failure to success, from expense to investment. I decided to take a moment and breathe - survey my surroundings. When I stopped and looked, under the wings of a shadowy sanctuary, I noticed the hundreds of people who bolted from Point-A to Point-C. I could hear the marching of their shoes, heels, slippers, and flats, all working in unison toward a cause unknown. I saw human beings swallowed up by piles of brick and concrete, only to later be regurgitated with newf...
Read more

So Shy

Watching over the people, the birds, the flowers, the trees. All dancing in the breathe of his lungs. He watches with eagerness and a desire to learn. A desire to see how they react to him. He watches their laughter, their tears, their footsteps, and yet he is unsure of how to approach. Perhaps he finds peace in keeping his distance, wondering and listening and hopeful of new events. Only when there are those who struggle does he come to intervene, but such a rare moment that is. And even then, once they are lifted off the hard ground, he recedes back into the shadows to resume his tenure as a ghost. Maybe he is indeed shy, afraid of what his presence might do, or perhaps believes himself incapable of facing his own machinations. He feels the wind and sun just as they do, but he feels such different ways - Unable to comprehend, to grasp their limits. He watches them grow old and die, and he seems sad because they are all so unique. They are all so beautiful, and yet he cannot a...
Read more

Just Garbage

Spring cleaning never gets easy. Sometimes you find that, year by year, one accumulates an impressionable amount of waste. This year was no different than the rest. In my hands was a trash bag, full and hefty with dusty displeasure. Even so, I felt the need to double-check the contents, otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing I might've thrown out an antique. The first object I found was a pair of sunglasses. I had gifted them to an ex-girlfriend a while back. She always wore shades, so I figured they were an appropriate present. Only when she broke up with me did she explain that wearing them was the best way to avoid eye contact with me. Beneath the glasses was a lead pencil, snapped in two. I had gotten into an argument with my father about how I would make a living. "You're 19 now," he'd say, "Time to get off your ass." I got so infuriated with him for not understanding and I crushed this pencil in between my fingers. He left i...
Read more