Poetry by Margaret D. Stetz
the famous poet gave a reading
at my school
because the English teacher
knew him
attendance was required
his voice was dry and white
what I imagined
certain wine was like
though I’d never tasted any
something you had to
twirl inside a crystal glass
not drink with pleasure
his shirt was Oxford cloth
white and sharply ironed
the reading was
informal
so he’d left the top two buttons open
rolled the cuffs
his shoes were loafers
which I’d only seen on girls
(adults I knew wore lace-up shoes
and uniforms to work)
his hair looked dry cleaned
freshly pressed
when he began to read
he gazed straight
at the first two rows
where young men sat
a group I’d never seen before
(did they travel with the poet
like a set
of matching luggage?)
the young men
also white
not quite as starched
were silent
bobbing heads
to show they understood
the Classical allusions
gliding past me
like a boat along the Styx (the only line I got)
I knew there must be
witty twists and plays on words
because the poet
sometimes slightly raised his eyebrows…
soon I was nodding
face pitched forward
eyelids lowering
I shook myself to stay awake
reciting in my head
the lyrics of a Beatles song
the record that
I couldn’t wait to play again
when I got home
Margaret D. Stetz is the Mae and Robert Carter Professor of Women’s Studies at the University of Delaware, as well as a widely published poet. Read her earlier poem “Robins” from the August 2022 issue of The Bluebird Word.
