Poetry by Sam Barbee
Elementary school, I heralded correct answers
before my classmates could. Shouted solutions
first, so I could expect a better grade. Invoked
intuition to answer simple questions,
simple math problems. I saw Jane run.
Mastered the cursive alphabet before others.
As I aged, I overlooked my unsightly impatience.
Bopped along ignoring any of life’s long division.
No need to show my work.
This morning when I opened your farewell note,
the message stuck in my throat like a lozenge
halfway dissolved. This choking of our passion
proves a lesson I cannot kick down the lane
like fractions. Black coffee in hand, I pause
at the open window, inhale the gray rain’s
fractured scent, and search for something lovely
in your cruel block letters. A deaf heart
must learn the calloused way: one plus one,
plus another, equals one too many.
Sam Barbee‘s newest collection is titled Apertures of Voluptuous Force (Redhawk Publishing, 2022). He has three previous poetry collections, including That Rain We Needed (Press 53, 2016), a nominee for the Roanoke-Chowan Award as one of North Carolina’s best poetry collections of 2016. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee.
