We Learn to Swim in Winter

By Paul Lacey

Denise Levertov put the care of her legacy in the hands of Paul Lacey when she appointed him her literary executor. This poetry, now assembled in this volume, shows that she knew a kindred soul when she saw one.. This collection will surely strike readers with awe and delight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493102846

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Paul Lacey.

Library of Congress Control Number:         2013917100

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4931-0283-9

                Softcover        978-1-4931-0282-2

                Ebook             978-1-4931-0284-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 10/04/2013

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Contents

Postcard from ICU

Salt of the Earth

Heart of My Heart

Walkabout

In Vino Veritas

Family Pictures

Mrs Martin’s Kitchen

I Can’t Let Myself Think Back To The Winters

Sybil

Lot’s Wife

Abraham and Isaac

Jephthah, Judge of Israel

Tu B’Shevat

Cold Doubt

Maximum Security

The Tunnels at Cu Chi

Outside the War Remnants Museum

Ghost Story

Vicki

At the Vigil

While I Sleep the Bombs Are Falling

Market Street: San Francisco

Wind Chill Minus Twelve

The Artist

How Can We Know the Dancer from the Dance?

Leaving Kalypso

I Shall Wear My Trousers Rolled

At the Airport

Old Woman Re-reading War and Peace

Postcard New York

William Blake’s Last Days

Wandering Scholar

Die Meistersinger: Last Act

Conventional Wisdom

Beech Forest: Provincetown

The Seagull

In the Mountains

Notes on the Orang-Utan

Picture Postcard

Postcard: June Mornings

The Shenandoah Valley

Things I Can’t Give Away

These Are the Days

As Good As It Gets

Autumn Palette

Winter Postcard

Dry Farming

Climbing Knocknarea

Scattering the Ashes

We Learn To Swim In Winter

Postcard from ICU

(For Margie)

Waiting to go to the hospital,

I did not think that this was my death,

but the pain told me to look closely

at everything: our old house.

dwarf daffodils almost spent.

daylily leaves breaking the soil.

myrtle in flower. Here and there

the tiny blue intensity of scilla.

My wife’s dear, strong face.

The afternoon sun shone

on everything. If this is goodbye,

I thought, how beautiful it is.

How beautiful it has always been.

How fortunate and happy I am.

Salt of the Earth

You meet the salt of the earth

in cardiac rehab. Everyone

on a low sodium diet.

Bud has gone back to work

too soon, speaks of the pain of lying

under his dozer, turning a wrench.

This is the season for building

ponds for his neighbors.

He is keeping his promises,

making his living ache by ache.

Mike, who is fifty, hurts

all the time. His grandson

wonders why he won’t

pick him up to play. He wonders

if his hard milk-delivery job

will wait another eight months.

Jeff wants to rush through the treadmill

and bike-work, back to feeding

his family. They all get

heart attacks in their fifties

in his family; at forty-seven,

he has come into his heritage.

Bad food, bad habits, bad jobs,

faulty genes, but they do our scut-work,

bring food to our tables

to put food on their own.

They think first of children, wives,

obligations to others.

They are patriots, fall-guys for lying politicians.

They keep their word.

Too much salt is deadly

to our health. But these are