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Questioning. Always Questioning

by Clarissa Powell

The teacher asks a question.
I sit on a branch
ruffling my feather and listening.

The teacher repeats herself.
Students start moving
Shuffling their papers and avoiding

The teacher's questioning eyes.
But a single girl
raises her head to meet those glaring,

Staring, stern, questioning eyes.
Another student,
a boy this time, is staring at me.

I ruffle my feathers twice.
But he's looking past
me into the world, questioning life.

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