On Teaching Seniors

I cut my dead body open
          Everyone looks at what remains
                    
Today:
I open to page 87
of Revolutionary Road
my fingertips
barely graze the text
the words
validate
my steel-plated heart
          “Being alone has nothing to do with
                    how many people are around.”
I press the novel into my left thigh
it cuts into my tissue
it reveals my scars
                                                                               but I feel nothing
                                                            I never do
I stand
I repeat myself, book closed,
                           dismantled
          trying to find my footing
“Being alone…”
          “Has nothing to do with how many people are around.”
I palm back my hair
          as tears stain my cheeks
                                                                                quietly
                                                            slowly

once again I learn—
          I feel too much
                   and 18-year-olds lack
sympathy
          like the rest of the world

I think of myself at 18
supple skin
          wanting desperately to be a virgin again
                                                                                we always want
what’s already
                              gone

I guess that’s just how it goes

I cry as I explain what Yates means
          I cry as I warn them this can happen to them too
                    I cry alone at the front of my classroom.

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About laurenfedorko

Aspiring writer. English teacher. Philosophy: know more about the world than you did yesterday and lessen the suffering of others.
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