You Understood

The children’s meeting hall where I teach

is painted pale pink.

A memory of Mr. Croutcher rises

sitting at his desk in a 6th grade classroom

every wall Pepto Bismol pink on his request.

Rumor had it he was gay, hence the pink

since people saw his car at Bobby’s

but this day he told us jails and asylums

are painted pink to calm the patients.

He boomed at me good naturedly

“Rachel, when I say, ‘Speak up,’

who is the subject of the sentence?”

I had a sense, a hunch, but my pink tongue and lips

had no words for it. Pink walls abandoned me.

“You understood!” he shouted, “You understood!”

Once I did, I never forgot.