Literature of the Ancient World
       

Sister Catherine is a million years old. Her skin is
orange, and we're pretty sure that's a hairpiece
draped on top of her head like a dead animal.
We can sidetrack her for the entire hour, asking
questions that hide the fact that we have not
finished the book. But, Sister, why doesn't Antigone
do something different when she knows how it will end?
We are fourteen. No one can teach us anything
about irony, and the Greeks bore us, always
yammering on about fate and duty. Twenty girls
drowse through the long spring afternoons,
waiting to be released into our real lives,
in which tragedy will play no part.

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Copyright © 2021 K. T. Landon All rights reserved
from Presence: A Journal of Catholic Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission