Friday, December 18, 2009

Old Habits

I made a conscious decision not to write
poetry my entire first year teaching high school.
It seemed practical at the time, even wise—
like the decisions you make “for the health
insurance” or because “it’s a trustworthy
[insert auto, appliance, boyfriend here].”

But here I go again, picking up old habits.

It could be worse, I could be a songwriter.
In Nashville, they tumble from candy machines
in strip malls and Chinese restaurants in small
handfuls for a quarter a pop, and you feel sorry
for them and take them home with you
by the dozens in your pockets, only to regret it
later when they write songs for you
and you feel obliged to clap and feed them.

At least this way, no one will take me
too seriously—teacher, poet, blogger, whatever!
Or if they do, I’m one of “those people,”
who carry a journal like this green one—
guess I should say laptop so as not to date myself—
and who sit alone, out of choice, in places
where coffee and stronger beverages are served.
Oops—just spilled my laté…will continue poem later.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

I guess I'm blogging...officially in 2010

Exam Review B6

I listen to the waves
of language as my English learners
study aloud in small groups—
Spanish, Arabic, Somali all blending
together like some aural verbal quilt
of culture and intonation, yet the students segregate
naturally and study in their own languages
for the exams they will take
by themselves
in English.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

To blog or not to blog?

This evening, while we rearranged the furniture
to make room for Christmas, some loot fell
from the crevices of our startled sofa chairs
as we lugged them from one spot to another.
As if we were shaking them down for their last penny
or crumb, they sighed and gave us what they could:
a solitary dice, a magic-less marker, an army man
with a bent bazooka (or whatever it's called), and Oh!
-- a whole other child, the one we somehow misplaced
while taking care of the two we haven't lost all year.
So we celebrated by falling to our knees, crying
and gasping. "It's what we've always wanted!"
Then, as quick, when we saw it was just a doll,
we laughed: "Ha! Good one! Joke on us, ol' chair ol' pal!"
Embarassed by our premature joy, the furniture
resigned itself to its new position in our home
and the evergreen settled into our living room
like a new friend. As for us, we just sat in silence staring--
holding hands, dazed--at the wonder of it all.