Mentors, Muses & Monsters Winner: Rachel Stewart

Her blue eyes looked this way, that—
saw nothing.
She smiled, a smile she learned when she was young,
and never quite forgot.
She stayed near her podium, usually,
in the middle front of the room,
where she would not lose her way
in the cavern between the desks.
She might walk a bit,
talk a bit,
and you’d see her hand reach behind her
for the podium
because if she could find the podium
she’d know where she was.

Once she’d done talking
and once we’d begun writing
she’d go back to her desk.
Two steps to the stand, turn right and left and shuffle,
because gold labs
don’t like crushed paws
and she wouldn’t step on
the man in her life, the one—
the corporeal one—
who stops her before
she falls into a hole in the sidewalk,
who steps with her
carefully down the stairs,
who sleeps on the floor during class
and plants himself always by her side.

She illustrated a poem for us once
on the whiteboard.
She drew a squiggly fleet of ships,
stick-figure demons and restroom-sign women.
We laughed to see them,
and to see her laugh, too;
she knew how strange it was.
She told us about limericks and diamantes and ballads
and blind school and guide dogs and faux pas.
We laughed, and learned, and heard new things,
and saw
because
she saw.



by _*Rachel*_