Thelma Lavine

One of the saints,
stands with her face
set aglow by the sun slipping
through the high window.
There's a smile filtering
on her face as she feels
the chewing gum of
long practiced speech
oozing thrills among us.

As we watch.
news fills the cells
of my mind but it doesn't hurt.
My response is evocation,
raising my hand
wanting more sweet speech.

She invites me
after class to
discuss my future.
She invites me to tea
in a world I never imagined.
There is mysterious
promise in what she says.
I won't be able
to tolerate such dreams.