On the Latin Teacher
- 3 hours ago
- 1 min read
By Candice M. Kelsey
with her gothic stretch
of nose delicately
punctuated by a lone jewel,
glittering half colon;
novel C chin in reverse,
a pointed aside
of parenthetical flesh
like theatrical convention;
those Canzoniere lips
like bougainvillea bursts
or Petrarch’s lines,
a modern Laura in Sephora;
that wrinkled brow
like Chillingworth’s soul,
and eyes laced widow-wise
as Haversham’s dress.
Impossible she could know
I’m staring her way
at this 3:00 faculty meeting,
so bored and hungry;
my daughter’s Latin teacher
in Room 116 across
from me, an English teacher
more space than shape;
I’ll read Whitman tonight,
gaze at our tabby
fur-puff Dido on a red chaise.
Am I worthy of translation?
My irregular nose,
a chin in third-declension?
Calpurnian brow,
and this subjunctive mood.
Candice M. Kelsey (she/her) is a bi-coastal writer and educator. Her work has received Pushcart and Best-of-the-Net nominations, and she is the author of eight books. Candice reads for The Los Angeles Review and The Weight Journal; she also serves as a 2025 AWP Poetry Mentor.
