My Wife's First Day of Class. (testament).

My Wife's First Day of Class.

   I stopped by during break. Yes,
   she whispered, yes, and shoved me
   back to work. All morning, my wife watched
   tiny scissors cut, and she was a kid again,
   how lucky could a teacher be? Her tongue
   tasted sweet like her lipstick

   after that first class. She shrugged,
   she couldn't help it: the smell of paste
   and crayons was enough. Her twenty children
   turned pink papers around and upside down
   and cut, and stubby fists colored,
   marking Valentines for months later.

   Twenty first-grade tongues twisted out
   and around and licked to teach
   their clumsy scissors how to snip.
   She watched those agile tongues contort,
   and she was a child again, cutting sails
   to make a boat, her own big teacher's tongue

   turning somersaults along her lips,
   licking her lipstick. Yes, she whispered,
   and hugged and shoved me toward the door,
   she loved it, needed children of her own,
   twins to start with, or triplets,
   something we could talk about tonight.