Thursday, April 24, 2014
Edited and introduced by Wesley McNair, Maine poet laureate.
No Child of Earthly Kitchens
Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Poem copyright © 2006 MeKeel McBride. Reprinted from “Dog Star Delicatessen,” Carnegie Mellon, 2006, by permission of Mekeel McBride. Questions about submitting to Take Heart may be directed to Gibson Fay-LeBlanc, special consultant to the Maine poet laureate, at firstname.lastname@example.org or 228-8263. “Take Heart: Poems from Maine,” an anthology collecting the first two years of this column, is now available from Down East Books.
By Mekeel McBride
I owned no raincoat and in the season of storms
was sent to school under my mother’s umbrella.
It was the color of pale sherry. The ivory handle
kept about it the faint smell of perfumed wrists.
It never carried me away although I wished it
often enough that I can still see beneath me
people with their umbrellas like black morning glories
growing small on a polished street.
And I see, too, my house as tidy as the shoebox
for a hurt bird; the flat horizon
filling out as purple and plump as an eggplant.
And when the dark arc of the umbrella sets me down
and when my feet again touch stubborn ground
I am no longer a child of earthly kitchens
but find the geometry of clouds closeted in my heart
and in my hair, the strange blue perfume of storm.