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Cynthia Duda lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina where she enjoys tennis, gardening, and the company of her wire-fox terrier. She teaches writing on the collegiate level. Her work has appeared in Ibbeston Street, The Comstock Review, Hanging Loose, and The Atlanta Review among others.

Periodic Table

Cynthia Duda

She never yelled or made snarky remarks
in her hard to hear, uninflected voice
to students like me who never found
anything in her chemistry class
to pique their interest, but I do remember
wondering where she bought the shapeless
gray dresses in the same shade as her hair,
scraped back in a knot all the way
from the widow’s peak on her forehead
to the nape of her neck, anchored by hairpins
that often worked loose and threatened to drop
onto the lab table where she was mixing
a potion.  I sat in the back where I could get
more than a peek into the contraband
on my lap that ranged from Exodus
to The Agony and the Ecstasy
in my longing for a world beyond the halls
of Central High in Nowhere City, Tennessee.
Maybe if Miss Shipe had worn snazzy
clothes or colored her hair I would have
found it by exploring the building blocks
of the universe with her, but I doubt it.
Leon Uris and Irving Stone knew me
better than any periodic table ever could.

— Cynthia Duda

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