Night Flower
by Robert K. Johnson
(for June W.)
Every time I return
your bluebook anwers,
whether I’ve graded them
“A”—“F”—whatever,
your quiet eyes
never brighten
or dull to grey,
your half-smile—
faint as moonlight
on distant trees—
never widens
or disappears.
And I feel again
I’ve put the bluebook
not in your hand,
but into a mailbox
on the rim of the land
that lies in front
of your home—
miles beyond
what my eyes can see.
Copyright © 2002 by Robert K. Johnson.
