I LOVE Faith Shearin

Alligators
by Faith Shearin


The year she is six my daughter dreams
of alligators in the closet: at home where
her uniform waits and at school
where the children hang their coats
in a room made of winter. When certain
classmates begin stealing her lunch
she imagines an alligator passing behind
her teacher's desk, unnoticed. Sometimes
the alligator is on our street, eating cars.
Sometimes it wanders to the playground
where she is hopping from one square
to another, practicing balance. I don't
like sending her into the dull weather
of the classroom: blackboard like
a starless sky. Alligators in the fountain
where she stoops to drink her water.
Alligators in the desks with freshly
sharpened pencils. Alligators leading
the children through the unlit hallways,
tails swishing like skirts.


Faith Shearin from Moving the Piano. Stephen F. Austin University Press © 2011