Art Teacher
A constant beat in the background
Increasing in volume, urgency—
It courses through her
like blood pressure.
Constricting against her heart,
A bound captive—
Holding and pulsing,
Yelling, struggling—
Go, do!
Take nothing
and make it
SOMETHING!
I won’t release
My grip
Until it’s done
Her paint bleeds,
Violent splotches
A crime scene—
And harmonious,
Sinuous lines
A faint pulse
It’s all or nothing.
Either this thing is worthy of
CREATION
Or it’s a naïve attempt at purity
That should have been left unborn
To teach
Was of necessity
(Rent, food, car, and all)
And when those hazy faces,
Restless legs, oversized hands
Appeared in her classroom
She ducked out at lunch
For a smoke
And wondered
Why they would look to her
To tell them
What ART IS—
Seemed terrible hubris
Maybe dangerous too—
How to explain it?
“The power to create
Is universal;
But the will to
Give birth to the new—
That’s different.
It’s the glimmer of a cure
For an unyielding ache
Inside of you.”
- Meredith Alexander Kunz, 2020
MeredithInk 