July 2017
Claire Keyes
cjkeyes@verizon.net
cjkeyes@verizon.net
I live north of Boston in a coastal town close to Salem State University where I taught English for thirty years. Although I'm retired, I continue to teach in SSU's life-long learning program. This spring I taught Irish Fiction. As the daughter of two Irish immigrants, I found teaching James Joyce and Colum McCann a homecoming of sorts. I have published two books of poems: The Question of Rapture (Mayapple Press) and What Diamonds Can Do (Word Tech).
Vow
Interesting how we fall for
our opposite: in my case, the male
to my female, the handyman
to my feminine klutz with hammer
and nail. How I admired
practical competence. Even better,
the scientist, the engineer, the skilled
craftsman. And they fell for me
the way people do for someone
with a bit of grace and the wit
to invite it. I, with my easy flow
from dance to song to words.
And yet, when I ran up against
the brick wall of reason, of lists,
of acceptable structures, I
was perplexed. Then you entered,
blending competence
with an unstudied gift
for design and a passion
for the natural world
that transcended mere
appreciation. My Thoreau:
you could build the house
and sound the depths of the ocean,
the gestures of fish and birds.
And I knew you belonged
with me. Belonged
as in part of.
Until you taught me
you belonged to yourself
alone. Not cruelly
or with forethought. Simply
not flesh of my flesh.
That lie we pledged.
Vow
Interesting how we fall for
our opposite: in my case, the male
to my female, the handyman
to my feminine klutz with hammer
and nail. How I admired
practical competence. Even better,
the scientist, the engineer, the skilled
craftsman. And they fell for me
the way people do for someone
with a bit of grace and the wit
to invite it. I, with my easy flow
from dance to song to words.
And yet, when I ran up against
the brick wall of reason, of lists,
of acceptable structures, I
was perplexed. Then you entered,
blending competence
with an unstudied gift
for design and a passion
for the natural world
that transcended mere
appreciation. My Thoreau:
you could build the house
and sound the depths of the ocean,
the gestures of fish and birds.
And I knew you belonged
with me. Belonged
as in part of.
Until you taught me
you belonged to yourself
alone. Not cruelly
or with forethought. Simply
not flesh of my flesh.
That lie we pledged.
© 2017 Claire Keyes
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