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SCHOOL DAYS
There was this girl
at tightrope walking school
afraid of heights.
She wanted to be a lion tamer
but generations of her family
had worked the wire, even the dogs.
In our discussions by the quarry, I contended
you can’t tame lions,
you can only make them afraid of chairs
and whips. This, however,
wasn’t her vision: the lions
would ascend their pedestals, roar when
asked,
open their mouths for her head
and eat her in the end. The New Circus,
she called it, and fell the next day,
the day after that, the day after that.
When they took her leotard away,
she circled the tent, touching the canvas
with her open palms. We were young.
I couldn’t afford a lion
so bought her a kitty, kissed her
on the cheek where the net
had left its mark. Sometimes
when I’m up there, waiting to step
into nothing, I think of the rocks
we threw over the fence into the quarry
that we never heard land.
They’re still going, she’s
still going,
the lions are still at it,
I’m twelve, lifting her shirt
as she lifts mine, our chests
almost identical
confusions, I’m about to do
what I don’t know how to do
every second of my life.
--Bob Hicok
Copyright © 2010 by Oberlin College.
May not be reproduced without permission.
GANGLE
AND BOOT
What a plain man you are, plain like a
hand-cranked
sifter, its worn red knob and the futility
of trying, oh plain like applesauce, strained
and sweet, the tang of the stubborn
pulp after pressing, you know, the pattern
you make with tin cookie cutters, the flaps
of dough you leave hanging. I’m like
that too,
the marrying of the scorned and lonely
self,
the lid of the bread bin drawer that squeaks
when you slide it back, no one
uses that now, but I can smell the crumbs
from those old, stale years, rescue inconceivable,
the raisin maid dark in her red box
where your shame lies, and mine;
This is a kind of rescue, isn’t it:
the dog-brown honesty in your eyes,
your common threads, that plaid flannel
shirt,
the stray hairs above your first button.
--Aimée Sands
Copyright © 2010 by Oberlin College.
May not be reproduced without permission.
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