Every Teacher Has One

This morning I cleaned out
my closet and found a skeleton.
The bones huddled in a corner
flaky with age and dust, I gathered
them in a basket and buried them
in my private cemetery.
Now let the grass have them
and the tree roots, let them
go back to earth and nourish
the present as the past has
always done. I can’t remember
why I hid them nor from what fear
these remnants remain.