Daffodil photo by Paul Brookes

the poetry unit. continuing education

who am I to explain to seniors
the poetry they grew up on
in Hong Kong? a crowd of coiffed 
chic women, curls and designer clothes
and combover man dressed
for the office twenty years after 
he left it but happy to indulge me 
as a host, to show him again 
those golden daffodils.

the frail elderly woman with 
jacket of quilted down so common 
to Chinese peasants did not care
if my ego nagged at me fraud. 
we are all gathered for things 
non-verbal, the poetry an excuse
for what spills around the edges:
break time tai chi, shaking hand
the sugar off the saucer
leaving a quarter moon
on the laminate table,
pictures from grandkids
wealthy enough to travel. 

at thirty two I had had foist 
at me or been the foister of 
the poppies growing row on row 
dozens of times. that tiresome 
sad old chestnut  like the national 
anthem with its war march of monarch—
dried hard from so many occasions 
turned over on the coals, but this time
was there a greek chorus?

a ghost wail sound, a primal distress. 
looking in the direction of it, the friendly 
hound puppy of a seniorhad been weeping 
until his collar was damp until I saw him
and he had to express explanation:
“all those dead, short days ago we lived. 
we lived”

his shoulders heaving. gulping breaths
crying aloud. “excuse me excuse me.”
“sensitive” gasp. the purr from those around, 
soothing, empathetic hums.  “stroke.” 
“emotional” the whole room rose 
in their sympathy, our hearts surrounding
the old soldier. and as he found composure
words became again the men
that they once were.

Pearl Pirie 

Bio and Links

Pearl Pirie

is an editor and an award winning Quebec poet. Adding Up to Thisis out from Catkin Press! Another new chapbook, A Couple Sumerians, is available from Turret House Press. Support her at Patreon for the price of a coffee or less and see behind the scenes poem drafts. Or at Substack and read essays on poetics. www.pearlpirie.com