Instructions for the unaware
Name things.
That is a complete sentence,
an imperative!
Name them!
When he drags the mouse on the string before the cat,
Name the smile on his face!
It is not a vacuous smile. It is not the smile of a simpleton.
In his unshaven face, it is a flash of pleasure.
He enjoys the quicksilver paws of the cat.
It is like matching wits with Dorothy Parker
Or trying to, anyway.
The cat often wins.
Name the log in the dying fire!
How the glow overtakes the flicker.
Heat pulses and shrinks, pulses and shrinks.
The fire within illuminates the cracks.
Name how your son eats,
Leaning to one side
Weight on his left elbow
Blue T-shirt riding high
Then his narrow frame shifts
He lowers his head so he can drop
A pinch of grated cheddar cheese
Into his mouth.
The act of eating quietens him,
As do computer games;
Other times, he hoots and burbles,
drums with pencils, silverware, fingers,
fake cries, mouth farts, tells stories,
asks how to spell words suitable for his noisy self,
like artillery and grenades and machine guns.
When you force yourself off the couch,
On a bitter January day
Slowly tug on the black snow pants
The insulated LL Bean boots
The long-sleeve maroon sweatshirt
The ankle-length down coat
The woolen hat like an upside-down bowl of oatmeal
The thick navy knit mittens that belonged to your dead sister
And step out into minus 4, nosehair-stiffening cold
Do not glance past the brushy landscape
But name it!
Name the trees!
Cottonwood! Oak! Ash!
See in January, the cottonwood sprouts green tips.
Is that new this year?
Have they always grown so early?
You’ve never looked before, have you?
