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Language Lesson

Today's poem is Language Lesson by Shir Kehila. It is read by Gibson Fay-LeBlanc.

Language Lesson

My student and I practice
the verb "to miss." I recite
in English, and he translates:
You're missing three ingredients
for cake; She missed him
last night at the concert; They're missing
twenty thousand dollars
for a house. Ha! My student laughs.
I know, I say. I had to imagine
they were lucky—that they could, perhaps,
find a way. I am restless, I say,
and my student translates: missing rest.
Impatient: missing patience.
Unconfident, insatiable, directionless—all
misfortunes named miss. I'm reminded
of The North Wood Hermit, who lived,
for twenty seven years, as a myth
in the forest of Maine: who was caught,
one night, sweeping marshmallows
and smarties and Humpty Dumpty
chips off a camp's kitchen shelf.
The snacks' routine vanishing
had revealed his proximity; their absence,
his presence. Children miss
manners, my student says, meaning
impolite, and I say right, meaning
grammatically, and we go on
like this, listing voids—both having,
we discover, so much more to say.