Calling the Names

A brief editorial note (though when I teach literature, I always say--never trust the poet to explain what she means)--I too frequently have conversations where I am saying something and--poof--just like that, the specific reference I wanted to make LEAVES my brain. It slips past my tongue without being said, and my brain refuses to re-supply it to my tongue. Until hours later--when I blurt it out.

Herewith such a conversation--of sort--in poetic form. An original poem for you, dear readers.

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CALLING THE NAMES

I call out the names in random fashion
Black & Decker
Truman Capote
Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy. . .
They have no connection to present reality
But short hours ago, they did.

We were strolling past some stores
Noting now vacant store fronts
And murmured--that's where. . .was--
But in that moment the name fled.

And then I wanted to remark
About an actor who had done a marvelous job
Portraying that writer
You know, the one who wrote
In Cold Blood
But the name refused to surface.

I read a recent article
That caught my attention
An explanation of Alzheimers
Prions are implicated
As in Jakob-Creutzfeldt
And you said--oh, that's like mad cow disease
But I knew that wasn't it.
But what? No name.

Then at midnight
The names arrive
And I call them out
Black & Decker
Truman Capote
Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy. . .

But you are asleep
So tomorrow I will
Call the names
Without repeating the conversations
And you will understand.

© KGMom 2009