A student asks, “Have you been tall ever since, Miss?”
He stands next to me, black hair level with my shoulder.
Another climbs onto his desk, “Even me, Miss. I’m tall.”
Laughter from the shy students near the wall, the ones
who hold hands over their mouths to speak.
I too always found a wall. Now I live in the middle
of a deep ocean and talk all day long.
We read one of Donne’s Meditations—
No man is an . . . .