Articles Available Online

Every morning as I walk to school through the dark blue decrepit world, I feel like I’m coming down with the flu By the time I reach the school, my entire body is depleted as if I have spent the night in chills, reabsorbing the damp excreting from my own pores I am always excreting something My ex-boyfriend noticed it He would ask why I was always cold and sweating, why I was always at war with myself When he licked the excretions off my body, I would ask myself, Is this a life? He used to say dirty things to me like, Desubjectify me, bitch The way he fucked was senseless and crazy I don’t get fucked like that anymore As a teacher I am not getting fucked and the children can tell Some of the children are teenagers and menstruating and ejaculating They have no control over their excretions and, in that way, perhaps we’re all alike Sometimes they talk to me as if I’m a nun No, little children, I’m not a nun I never was There are people where I am standing, outside the school’s entrance I am waiting to open the door I encounter someone’s father He has a cord of wood strapped to his back   How are you, Maya’s teacher?   No, how are you?   Then a different father holds the door open for me   Go on in, he says   I have always hated people’s families and fathers The school is inside what used to be an American legion hall It’s an open space the size of a gymnasium with hundreds of chairs organised in circles and two offices and practice rooms and closets Some of the children are huddled in clumps on the floor like mounds of peanut shells The peanut shells are listening to the Notorious BIG I touch the handle of the teachers’ bathroom There is one adult bathroom for thirty adults The sweat on my skin dries and leaves a thin film The door is locked A phone is ringing somewhere I wait patiently I am filled with peace as I imagine my day’s reasonable