First thing wet September morning:
Theology all of girls smoothly bowed
to the lecture — row after rowed boats
down rivers of hair: slick ponytails,
or damp feathers, beetle-gloss —

the professor-drone in shell-ears,
and God observing from the back row,
barefoot, dull-eyed, great Head nodding,
chin touching the Chest.

He snores clouds that sail out the open
window. One gets caught in a pigtail,
no one squeals. Teach on, teacher,
to favorable reviews —

the rain falls on and on,
makes a sound only when
it hits the ground.

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