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.