Untitled Document
deathwatchpoem #4
I don’t worry much about
my own death hope it’s fairly
swift a few moments to say
goodbye and thanks for the fish
or as lady montagu said it has all
been very interesting I don’t want
too much trouble for my kids but
find myself thinking this bleak cold
dawn it’s their deaths may they have
good deaths nothing I’ll know unless
one dies before me that wouldn’t be
good I stumble to the kitchen jim
huston’s sunday morning concert is
into a handel concerto the G major
one I call echo the tipoff is that last
movement I make tea write my eldest
the dream I had just before waking
joshua bell in sweatshirt and jeans
is in my living room he feels at home
relaxed one leg over the chair’s arm
he’s listening meditatively to her
play her violin which she is doing
sweetly it’s very peaceful very natural.
© Jacqueline Jackson 2007
When ancient people gathered around the fire at nightfall, I like to think that they told stories, about where each of them had been that day, and what that person had seen in the forest. Those were among our first stories, and we still venture into the world and return to tell others what happened. It’s part of community. Here Kathleen Flenniken of Washington tells us about a woman she saw at an airport.
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport
She wears the run-down slippers of a local and in her arms, five rare protea wrapped in newsprint, big as digger pine cones.
Our hands can’t help it and she lets us touch. Her brother grows them for her, upcountry. She’s spending the day on Oahu with her flowers and her dogs. Protea for four dogs’ graves, two for her favorite. She’ll sit with him into the afternoon and watch the ocean from Koolau. An old woman’s paradise, she tells us, and pets the flowers’ soft, pink ears.
Poem copyright © 2007 by Kathleen Flenniken, whose most recent book of poetry is Famous (University of Nebraska Press, 2006). Poem reprinted by permission of the author. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
Ted Kooser served as the U.S. poet laureate 2004-2006. For more information, go to www.americanlifeinpoetry.org.
deathwatchpoem #4
I don’t worry much about
my own death hope it’s fairly
swift a few moments to say
goodbye and thanks for the fish
or as lady montagu said it has all
been very interesting I don’t want
too much trouble for my kids but
find myself thinking this bleak cold
dawn it’s their deaths may they have
good deaths nothing I’ll know unless
one dies before me that wouldn’t be
good I stumble to the kitchen jim
huston’s sunday morning concert is
into a handel concerto the G major
one I call echo the tipoff is that last
movement I make tea write my eldest
the dream I had just before waking
joshua bell in sweatshirt and jeans
is in my living room he feels at home
relaxed one leg over the chair’s arm
he’s listening meditatively to her
play her violin which she is doing
sweetly it’s very peaceful very natural.
© Jacqueline Jackson 2007
When ancient people gathered around the fire at nightfall, I like to think that they told stories, about where each of them had been that day, and what that person had seen in the forest. Those were among our first stories, and we still venture into the world and return to tell others what happened. It’s part of community. Here Kathleen Flenniken of Washington tells us about a woman she saw at an airport.
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport
She wears the run-down slippers of a local and in her arms, five rare protea wrapped in newsprint, big as digger pine cones.
Our hands can’t help it and she lets us touch. Her brother grows them for her, upcountry. She’s spending the day on Oahu with her flowers and her dogs. Protea for four dogs’ graves, two for her favorite. She’ll sit with him into the afternoon and watch the ocean from Koolau. An old woman’s paradise, she tells us, and pets the flowers’ soft, pink ears.
Poem copyright © 2007 by Kathleen Flenniken, whose most recent book of poetry is Famous (University of Nebraska Press, 2006). Poem reprinted by permission of the author. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
Ted Kooser served as the U.S. poet laureate 2004-2006. For more information, go to www.americanlifeinpoetry.org.
