Elizabeth Weaver

ONE MORNING

Listen to the audio version read by Melissa Cotter.

In Biology class, you see
The girl in front of you holding a coffee cup.
A mug, no top.

You wonder if she brought it from her dorm,
About a quarter of a mile away,
Cooling between her long fingers all morning.

You know you could never do such a thing,
A brain with holes that spatial perception falls through
Like drops of rain through a sieve.
Nothing is caught.

You want to write about your inadequacies
But you can’t find your pen.
It takes you three minutes
To recognize the pencil bag at your elbow.

Elizabeth Weaver is a student at California State Polytechnic University Pomona. She is majoring in Agricultural Sciences. She plans to teach life sciences after graduation. Her life had to start over at age 27 when she first became disabled, but she believes when a door closes, a window opens (though you may have to squeeze through it).