January 30: Wind Chills, "Evolution," Vote

So, my kids didn't have school today due to dangerous wind chills.  They don't have school again tomorrow for the same reason. 

In honor of another snow day (okay, I know it's not technically a snow day, but close enough), I'm giving you a poem tonight about school and evolution and prayer.

Evolution

by:  Martin Achatz

Miss Hale was an experiment for Assumption Grotto School.
In her not-quite-miniskirts and thigh-high boots,
She was Technicolor while the nuns were black-and-white.
Marching into my sixth grade, Miss Hale's heels
Sparked lightning from the tile.  Her hair was black
As a confessional; eyes, brown as Saint Francis.
I swallowed every word she spoke,
Felt them living inside me so that at night,
She was my prayer I lifted to God:
Hale Mary, full of grace and
Our Father, who art in heaven, Hale be thy name.

One day, Miss Hale told us,
"I'm going to teach you where we all come from."
I hunkered down, expecting her to say
Words that burned my tongue.
She produced maps of Africa,
Spoke of origins and Darwin and Galapagos,
Described Louis Leakey and missing links and ancestor apes.
As her last piece of evidence, she turned her back to us,
Pressed her hand at the base of her spine, and said,
"Here's where our tails used to be."

That night, I dreamed I had a tail, thick and wild.
I cracked coconuts with my teeth, sucked the milk,
Let it spill white down my arms, chest, thighs.
Miss Hale, hair blinding black in the jungle sun,
Sat high in a tree, her tail snaking the air,
Inviting me to climb.  I climbed,
And our chimpanzee screams shook the vines like rain.

Please vote for Saint Marty (Marty Achatz) for 2019/2020 Poet Laureate at the link below.  You can vote every day from now until February 9:

Vote for 2019/2020 Poet Laureate of the Upper Peninsula