The air is colder than the light in the air
No fog no smoke but the light hangs on the air
Like fog like smoke I’m walking to the bakery
On Amsterdam across from the cathedral
A middle-aged man wearing a tweed cap and
A limp blue Members Only jacket passes me
And a black face mask with a white skull
Printed on it but death is a professor everywhere
What have you learned he asks
What do you know
I turn the corner and the sidewalk’s full of stu-
dents everybody’s parents sent them hoping
Back elsewhere the professor hangs his jacket on his chair
Sighs off his cap tightens his mask
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“The Professor” by Shane McCrae, reprinted with the permission of the Sewanee Review. Copyright © 2021 by Shane McCrae.