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ANOTHER SEPTEMBER

The groundsman was already burning leaves.

 

Each working day, I was paid to lead

other people’s children through the labyrinth

of language – received, standard. (For some,

it was the wrong one – language or labyrinth.

They had their own minotaurs at home,

on the streets). And each day, I would drive back

to smiles and books and weathered bricks and luck.

 

Watching the smoke drift, I was surprised

to be still there, trying to unload

the dice from some sense of duty –

and something not a little like love.

 

 

 

© Copyright David Selzer
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3 Responses
  • John Huddart
    September 26, 2012

    I am drawn straight to this poem’s use of the word ‘luck’ for some reason – because life’s like that! Also, this marvellous piece makes its own….from the genial harbinger of the fates in line one, with its harbinger of winter tones [and the rest], to the contrasts between work and home, between duty, rest … and love.

    What’s not to be at one with, for any teacher, here?

  • Nilanjana Bose
    September 28, 2012

    ‘…trying to unload the dice from some sense of duty – and something not a little like love…’ So evocative – enjoyed this one so much. Thanks.

  • David Selzer
    October 3, 2012

    Thank you for the imprimatur!

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