fourth grade, a name — Hugh? — a small boy the teacher said he died of a weak heart I pictured a white shirt, a pale featureless face he’d been absent so often I remembered nothing much, a moving shape, & no one not a single fourth grader mourned him we didn’t know what grief was — oh, perhaps some knew it, but not for this small gone-away-forever boy — we moved on would it have been long-division? or coloring maps of far away countries? green for forests yellow for growing grain, pale brown for sand where camels plodded past dunes — the priest came three times a week to read the next chapter of Narnia books, the frightened yet brave children, the stern lion — the priest never explained how lions & witches taught us religion, we thought him dangerously peculiar, & we worried he’d be taken away before the children made it home, instead, the school year ended, I found the books at the library read to the end & then back to the beginning & back to the end again, fifth grade brought a different priest, in fifth grade no one died