On Poetry

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The Best American Poetry, 2015

I’ve not considered myself a reader or fan of poetry, but my sweet friend Emily (who is a creative writing teacher and poet, in addition to being an amazingly patient mother and a thoughtful, kind friend who has a knack for good listening and even better perspective taking — yes, she is awesome) is going to change all that. She gave me this book awhile back, and I’ve taken my time to read a poem every now and then before I go to bed. It’s different from reading novels or memoirs or pop science. I find that reading poetry is a slow sort of thing, and reading one or two poems at a time is the best way for me to really enjoy and think about each poem.

And since Father’s Day is fast approaching, I wanted to share one of my favorites from this collection. Let me know what you think!

My Husband, by Rebecca Hazelton

My husband in the house.
                      My husband on the lawn,
pushing the mower, 4th of July, the way
my husband’s sweat wends like Crown Royale
to the waistband
of his shorts,
the slow motion shake of the head the water
running down his chest,
all of this lit like a Poison video:
Cherry Pie his cutoffs his blond hair his air guitar crescendo.
My husband at the PTA meeting.
My husband warming milk
at 3 a.m. while I sleep.
My husband washing the white Corvette the bare chest and the soap,
the objectification of my husband
by the pram pushers
and mailman.
My husband at Home Depot asking
where the bolts are,
the nuts, the screws,
my god, it’s filthy
my husband reading from the news,
my husband cooking French toast, Belgian waffles,
my husband for all
nationalities.
My husband with a scotch, my husband
with his shoes off,
his slippers on, my husband’s golden
leg hairs in the glow of a reading lamp.
My husband bearded, my husband shaved, the way my husband
taps out the razor, the small hairs
in the sink,
my husband with tweezers
to my foot,
to the splinter I carried
for years,
my husband chiding me
for waiting
to remove what pained me,
my husband brandishing aloft
the sliver to the light, and laughing.

                                          from Court Green

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