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      October 21, 2016The Adjunct’s VillanelleAnna M. Evans

      You just come in and teach, then you can go,
      she says, distracted by her tenure file.
      I wish someone would tell my students so.
       
      From there I leave to meet with one who’s slow
      to understand the work. It takes a while
      to teach him what he needs. Then, I can go.
       
      Another texts: the fetus didn’t grow.
      She’s on bed rest for weeks. Can I compile
      the work she’ll miss? I can, and tell her so.
       
      Two student emails wait: one’s in a show
      and really wants me there. Good kid. I smile
      and write back saying I’ll be thrilled to go.
       
      The second wants a reference. Just say no,
      I’m told. I could, but cannot reconcile
      this with the student I remember. So,
       
      the one whose mom died doesn’t need to know
      my story, how I have to swallow bile
      when I hear how I come, and teach, and go.
      I don’t. I wish someone would tell them so.

      from #53 - Fall 2016

      Anna M. Evans

      “Although this poem is the first and only I have so far written to address the subject of my work as an adjunct professor at Stockton University directly, my job affects my poetry in subtle ways. I have become a crusader for social injustice and that is a thread that runs through my poems. I also see social media as the battleground in which these issues will play out and have worked hard to understand it.”