before you teach

before you teach

1

a few hours before class

drive out Tinton road

until you leave any traffic

behind you

the trees will not distract you

they will stand

perfectly still

here, you must leave the

the beaten path

and join them along

an ancient road left

overgrown

wind your way among them

to a shaded spot

and kill your engine

from here you travel

on foot

speed is no longer

your goal

each step is a lesson

2

here, dig into

the hard dirt bank

find egg-shaped rocks

fractured by the weight

of millennia

and know that a thing

whether fertile or not

left long unhatched

turns to stone

think as you walk

of the mountain lion

waiting patiently

for a sign of weakness

know that hunger

is his nature

and that you have come here

with only a pocket knife

and your senses

see—he has left

for you a sign

claw marks in the mud hole

long and deep,

count them

one, two, three, four, five

straight as a treble clef left empty

and waiting

for your half

of his composition

3

coming home

roll down all the windows

and drive fast

letting the dust

filter in

sprinkle, flavor

your books your papers

even your skin

the sweat of the journey

will make it stick

and you will taste it

in your teeth

even as you speak

to your students