The others bent their heads and started in.

Confused, I asked my neighbor

to explain—a sturdy, bright-cheeked girl

who brought raw milk to school from her family's

herd ofHolsteins. Ann had a blue bookmark,

and on it Christ revealed his beating heart,

holding the flesh back with His wounded hand.

Ann understood division__

Miss Moran sprang from her monumental desk

and led me roughly through the class

without a word. My shame was radical

as she propelled me past the cloakroom

to the furnace closet, where only the boys

were put, only the older ones at that.

The door swung briskly shut.

The warmth, the gloom, the smell

of sweeping compound clinging to the broom

soothed me. I found a bucket, turned it

upside down, and sat, hugging my knees.

I hummed a theme from Haydn that I knew

from my piano lessons ...

and hardened...