Poems & Essays

17 Dec

At Ten My Son Shows Me

General/Column No Response

Bark he found under
the apple blossoms as we walked
down the hill to school
and when he crams it,
as big as his hand, in his pocket

I ask what else?
Finger knitting on thick
white yarn, a long swath,
the yarn ball, a broken
rubber band. He shows too a whole
rubber band as pale
pink as the blossoms
stuck to our shoe bottoms.

How will people read you I wonder?
I say to my son
hair too long, pants too short,
who closes his bedroom door.

An eraser, a rock, two coins
one with a rim newly printed
one with a woodchip on a string
superglued to the eagle
he doesn’t explain.
I want to know, he says,
ask them who I am,
who they think I am.

 

 

Deborah Bacharach is the author of After I Stop Lying. Her work has appeared in The Antigonish Review, Arts & Letters, Cimarron Review, and Literary Mama among many others. She is an editor, teacher and tutor in Seattle and teaches poetry workshops for children.

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