Elegy In The Classroom

In the thin classroom, where your face was noble and your words were all things, I find this boily creature in your place; find you disarranged, squatting on the window sill, irrefutably placed up there, like a hunk of some big frog watching us through the V of your woolen legs. Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane. We fidget in our plain chairs and pretend to catalogue our facts for your burly sorcery or ignore your fat blind eyes or the prince you ate yesterday who was wise, wise, wise.