Professor

Her office hours,
after her eightieth birthday,
moved to a bench
overlooking the shore,
she goes without hello
when the students hover by her.
It is the birds’ arrival
that invites her grin,
the buck teeth and gum scar
she has given up concealing.
The questions on the reading
answered only with questions,

the students cap their pens
and watch the tide shatter, roll.
I am giving myself back, she says.
Her toes stretch to meet the water.
This year, she parted with the car,
gave her late husband’s things
to the Good Will finally.
If only one student shows,
she calls a walk along the harbor.
The conversation leaves Plato
and moves on to sea levels,

the moorings and safety signs
that the water will cradle
inch by inch.
Does every triumph
lead to this spot:
this overcast beach
with food for the gulls,
the eyes that squint
through stray hairs

to watch the motorboats fade?
I am giving myself back, she says again.
Her fingers slow enough
to keep the shakes at bay,
she spreads the Ziploc bag
and holds the crumbs
before tossing them.
Each one flies like a considered gift,
a bargain for what the next world
may repay.

*First published in The First Thing Mastered (Tebot Bach, 2013)

Michael Miller is the co-founder of Moon Tide Press, the author of five books of poetry, and a former entertainment and community news journalist for the Los Angeles Times. He currently teaches English and coordinates the visiting-author program at St. Cyril of Jerusalem School in Encino, California. You may read more about him and visit his blog at www.michaelmillerpoet.com.