SUSY TEACHER
-
Gopikrishnan
Kottoor (India)
It
was dusk.
I
was sipping coffee,
Eating
the cold bread
Mother
had packed along with my books.
There
she was by the window
Beautiful
as she was always to me,
Her
miniature breastpin upon her heave, gently silvering.
The
twilight hit it
And
the little Christ glowed all red.
The
needle fell from her hands.
She
turned to me and smiled,
Gently
rose, and came back with a magnet.
In
the small darkness
That
seeped by the hours
We
searched all over the floor
Until
the needle suddenly clutched its iron,
With
a deliberate hug
From
quiescent eclipse;
Just
as now, her eyes
Strips
across my face
Foraging
for me, as though I,
Her
small needle,
lay lost somewhere in hiding;
A
silver drop that she'll never again find
Turning
me deeper than Christ in her eyes
As
the bend in the twilight
Breaks
The
last of the colours of evening.
****