On Thanksgiving no one wants to hear poetry
I ask my son; would you like to listen to a poem?
Not really, he says, do you want to hear football scores?
His newly divorced friend says you know I should read
poetry. I liked it in college, though he says he doesn’t recall
which poets he read. It’s too long ago, but I liked Frankenstein.
I remind him that it’s Mary Shelley’s novel, not Percy’s, the poet,
My granddaughter, the swimmer, scrunches her nose when
I mention how she could have fun with sonnets, write 14 lines,
or take lines from other poets and create your own poem, a cento.
Think of it like swimming, each stroke builds on the next one.
She rolls her eyes and takes another bite of mashed potatoes.
Everyone explains why poetry holds no metaphor for their lives—
how they never liked verse, except maybe Mother Goose,
and who has time to learn to read or write poetry when
they’re busy with work and kids? My daughter-in-law
says, I remember a poem by Emily Dickinson, about a feather.
That gives me hope, so I ask my grandson what he’s read.
We read Keats and Poe, sophomore year, but I’ve forgotten it all.
When the dishes are cleared, we sit near the fireplace.
I’m going to read a poem, I say, and pull a paper from my purse
After I’m finished, my daughter-in-law’s eyes well. My son fidgets
with his watch and asks if anyone knows who’s winning the game.
*
Linda Laderman is a Michigan writer and poet. She is the 2023 recipient of The Jewish Woman’s Prize from Harbor Review. Her micro-chapbook, “What I Didn’t Know I Didn’t Know” will be published online at Harbor Review in September, 2023. Her poetry has appeared in The Gyroscope Review, The Jewish Literary Journal, SWWIM, ONE ART, Poetica Magazine, and Rust & Moth, among others. She has work forthcoming in Thimble Literary Magazine and Minyan Magazine. For nearly a decade, she volunteered as a docent at the Zekelman Holocaust Center in Farmington Hills, Michigan. Find her at lindaladerman.com
