Wednesday, August 15 \u201cOur parents look on in disbelief
\nas we pioneer delights they thought only they knew
\nbefore those delights gave them us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Perhaps I like this Debra Spencer poem the way I like several other of her poems. Or perhaps because the next generation of my family now pulses with parenting energy focussed on yet another generation; I love all three generations and enjoy them immensely. My niece, Terry, emailed me from Paris this morning, reminding me of her first time there when I was the middle generation, she and her sister on one end and my mother on the other. I didn\u2019t just carry suitcases and drive our car though; I listened to my mom admiring and mumbling about her granddaughters both electrified by Paris with generous hearts and spirits but finding the Left Bank shops more revelatory than the centuries of Notre Dame cathedral\u2019s life span. I traveled around with and listened to my two nieces in what I still remember as a wonderful 3-Gen living journey. Now, this week, Terry and her husband watch their children, alive with discovery.<\/p>\n
Debra Spencer gets it about such essential humanity across generations, our human capacity for wonder and discovery as well as embarrassment. Bet to read the poem out loud, with pauses. Have a blest Wednesday.<\/p>\n
john sj<\/p>\n
Poem:<\/strong> “The Discovery of Sex” by Debra Spencer, from Pomegranate<\/em>. \u00a9 Hummingbird Press. Reprinted with permission.<\/p>\n The Discovery of Sex<\/strong><\/p>\n We try to be discreet standing in the dark we hope my mother won’t see us, but later we don’t care, go where no one can see us, but we are that before we put our mouths together, before Years later, still we try to be discreet, standing Wednesday, August 15 \u201cOur parents look on in disbelief as we pioneer delights they thought only they knew before those delights gave them us.\u201d Perhaps I like this Debra Spencer poem the way I like several other of her poems. … Continue reading
\nhallway by the front door. He gets his hands
\nup inside the front of my shirt and I put mine
\ndown inside the back of his jeans. We are crazy
\nfor skin, each other’s skin, warm silky skin.
\nOur tongues are in each other’s mouths,
\nwhere they belong, home at last. At first<\/p>\n
\nwe forget her. Suddenly she makes a noise
\nlike a game show alarm and says Hey! Stop that!<\/em>
\nand we put our hands out where she can see them.
\nOur mouths stay pressed together, though, and
\nwhen she isn’t looking anymore our hands go
\nback inside each other’s clothes. We could<\/p>\n
\ngood kids, from good families, trying to have
\nas much discreet sex as possible with my mother and father
\nfour feet away watching strangers kiss on TV,
\nmy mother and father who once did as we are doing,
\nsomething we can’t imagine because we know<\/p>\n
\nthe back seat of his parents’ car where our skins
\nfinally become one-before us, these things
\nwere unknown! Our parents look on in disbelief
\nas we pioneer delights they thought only they knew
\nbefore those delights gave them us.<\/p>\n
\nin the kitchen now where we think she can’t see us. I
\nslip my hands down inside the back of his jeans
\nand he gets up under the front of my shirt.
\nWe open our mouths to kiss and suddenly Hey! Hey!<\/em>
\nsays our daughter glaring from the kitchen doorway.
\nGet a room!<\/em> she says, as we put our hands
\nout where she can see them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"