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The Sound That Haunting Makes
I'd like to talk about how the day went, talk as we used to do,
not with singing words, but smaller celebrations gathered until
we noticed the ridges of each other—
the missing parts that no one else could see.
I don't mind that you’re away, an understandable
shift—aerodynamic in fact—you loved to fly—but
that you would forget me is impossible.
Did you see this sweater’s lost a button loop?
And that excessive fruit makes the basket spill?
Are you laughing at my decorating skill?
Are you assuring me the problem is in the straw,
its weaving, the oversized pear, the lopsided chair?
I'd like some decisions from you, yet I understand—
as a passenger of time—you are beyond my reach.
I need some help with perceptions, logistics—
teaching myself to live under the weight of visibility.
Since we seem to be of two different geographic climes,
can you direct me closer to you? You, who flew from Japan
to California using only the stars. Should I sit here in the sun
or move my hands, my heart, a little to the left?
I understand these are contradictory criteria—
the living and the dead—yet at times, through my devotion
to the past, plus my unreasonable emotions, I feel a
radiant warmth encircling me. Of course, at other times
The cumulative effect of memory left on its own is staggering.
Yesterday, you were solid as stone, rich with detail, revolving around me,
and other days like this one, I'm sure you understand,
It's as if it never happened.
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Grace Cavalieri is Maryland's tenth poet laureate. She founded "The Poet and the Poem" for public radio, now from the Library of Congress, celebrating 44 years on-air. Her latest books are Showboat (2019), which centers on her 25 years as a Navy wife, and What The Psychic Said (2020, both books from Goss 183 Pub.). Her latest play is "Quilting The Sun," Theater for the New City, NYC, 2019. She was married for 60 years to the late sculptor, Kenneth Flynn. They had four children. Grace lives in Annapolis, Maryland.
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Kenneth Flynn with one of his sculptures
Lovey, intriguing, mysterious.
Posted by: Maureen Owen | December 13, 2020 at 11:59 AM
Thanks for the comment, Maureen.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 13, 2020 at 12:07 PM
Oh Terence
I am crying.
And this is my own poem! How embarrassing. But that you added Ken Flynn. How kind. How thoughtful for you to bring him back for the day.
And thank you Maureen for reading.
And Terence. Is it because Ken is a "Flynn?" And you are distant cousins? He says Thank you. I say I Love You.
Posted by: Grace Cavalieri | December 13, 2020 at 01:03 PM
as all who know grace and her work understand, she is a national treasure....and this poem is just another reason why...
Posted by: lally | December 13, 2020 at 01:24 PM
This poem brought tears. It rings so true, deeply wrenching, and, yet, beautiful. It touched my heart.
Posted by: Mary | December 13, 2020 at 01:54 PM
Grace, the poet who asks questions and really wants to hear the answers. To see Grace and Ken together was to be welcomed into their joint radiance. Beautiful poem. Thank you.
Posted by: Beth Joselow | December 13, 2020 at 02:03 PM
Grace---you wrote a beautiful poem (many beautiful poems).
I'm honored to have a chance to present this one here.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 13, 2020 at 02:41 PM
Thanks, mo chara. I couldn't agree more.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 13, 2020 at 02:43 PM
Thanks, Mary. I thought of you and & Tom when I first read Grace's poem.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 13, 2020 at 02:45 PM
Oh Grace, this is so moving and so--forgive me for saying so!--graceful. A gorgeous poem!"[T]eaching myself to live under the weight of visibility." Yes, we are all trying to learn that lesson, to ready ourselves for the next phase. You are my soul's teacher. I will always see you and hear your voice, even after both of us live only in the ether. How lucky I feel to know you--and to have known your brave pilot, too.
Posted by: Barbara Quick | December 13, 2020 at 02:48 PM
Thanks, Beth. Grace is a treasure.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 13, 2020 at 02:49 PM
What a beautiful poem! I never met Ken, but I feel his presence through such movingly expressed love. And it helps me feel that the love in us survives.
Posted by: Natalie Canavor | December 13, 2020 at 03:06 PM
Grace Cavalieri, the great Poet Laureate of Maryland, has written yet another true, beautiful, and moving poem. Thank you for continually inspiring us, Grace. It is also wonderful to see the photo of Ken and his work. I only wish I had had the chance to see you two artists together. Thank you, BAP, for this stirring feature.
Posted by: Emily Fragos | December 13, 2020 at 03:09 PM
This poem of “smaller celebrations “ comes from a large and beautiful and loving heart. How fortunate I am to live in Maryland with the exquisite Grace Cavalieri as my poet laureate. If I didn’t live here already I’d move here! This poem sculpts an emotional landscape both delicate and strong. It’s a poem between two people and yet I feel welcome as listener and observer, so I may learn and grow in my own living.
Posted by: Shirley J Brewer | December 13, 2020 at 03:23 PM
Grace, this is one of the most beautiful poems about your ever lasting relationship with Ken. So delicate and moving, especially as Ken is still a presence also for me. It was a privilege to know him and to have seen you together. That makes the poem all the more special to me. One of those that I have saved and that I will read many more times.
Posted by: Sabine Pascarelli | December 13, 2020 at 04:14 PM
The poem is a wonder. I'm so moved by the line "to live under the weight of visibility."
Posted by: Henry E Crawford | December 13, 2020 at 04:25 PM
Grace celebrates with exquisite tenderness the joy and cruelty of memory and time's passage.
Being with Grace and Ken was a delight. Thanks for celebrating her genius and the man she loves.
Posted by: Maria van Beuren | December 13, 2020 at 04:36 PM
This is a poem to be inscribed on that stone tablet we keep in the back room preparing it lovingly for our family, our friends, our heirs. After we are gone the words on the tablet will visit the imaginations of new readers, new explorers. Thank you for this amazing grace, this poem.
Posted by: Indran Amirthanayagam | December 13, 2020 at 04:48 PM
Just gorgeous - it is so poignant and so. many beautiful images. thank you for sharing this
Irene
Posted by: Irene Fick | December 13, 2020 at 04:57 PM
Good poem! I love the line about moving the heart. - Mark Dawson
Posted by: Mark Dawson | December 13, 2020 at 08:42 PM
How beautiful, and perfect with that photo.
Posted by: Dan Murano | December 14, 2020 at 04:41 AM
This poem made me feel the feelings I work hard to keep under wraps. I'm shattered again.
Nonetheless, thank you.
xo
cdm
Posted by: Christine Donnelly-Moan | December 14, 2020 at 05:53 AM
Thanks for the comment, Christine.
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 14, 2020 at 06:08 AM
There's so much going on here...I had to read it twice!
Posted by: Mike | December 14, 2020 at 09:06 AM
Good man, Mike!
Posted by: Terence Winch | December 14, 2020 at 09:24 AM