Marie Howe

The Teacher

Was he my husband, my lover, my teacher?
One book will say one thing. Another book another.

Can the body love beyond hunger?
You tell me what you know of desire and surrender.

I had a teacher who would not hurt me. I had a teacher 
who struck me in the face, then struck me again.

I had a teacher who died in his own bed, a teacher who
died in public, a teacher who was a child, a girl.

Can we love without greed? Without wanting to be first?
Everyone wanted to pour his wine, to sit near him at the table.

Me too. Until he was dead.
Then he was with me all the time.