Bridget has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at wee words for wee ones.
Because the chair made such a ghastly sound as it was being dragged from one spot in our classroom to another, I asked my student to please lift it by its back instead. It will be so much quieter, I reasoned, thinking about my gnawing migraine, mostly.
So, of course, he asked. “Its back? The chair has a back?”
Which led to an interesting conversation…and the memory of this poem, which I remembered to look up only after school was long over
What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,
and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.
Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image;
we gave the country a heart,
the storm an eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safety.