Teague's "Explanation To A Student"

EXPLANATION TO A STUDENT

Even in Shakespeare, some words mean

what they seem; here water is its ordinary self, dripping

no irony, sloshing waves up the shore,

and when Roderigo wants to drown himself

from sorrow, he means, quite literally drown.

If you do not see a circle floating above the line,

a buoy marking deeper meanings,

notes submerged by ripples of thous and 'zounds,

you may lie on the raft of the surface--

as Roderigo might have, unrequited but still too light

for drowning, or as you would be carried 

from your chair if a friend said, I'd love

some water.  You'd fill her glass with liquid,

tasteless and transparent, not wondering

if she wanted something metaphoric (the boiling point,

viscosity, and surface tension unusually high

for its molecular weight), like tragedy, or love.

When the time comes to navigate 

the shoals inside soliloquies, you'll have to trust

not all words will deceive you.  Not all are false

as water, which you'll remember

Othello calls the dead Desdemona, to explain

why he has killed her, why he would not listen

to her vow she had always been true.

--Alexandra Teague,

from her recent award-winning volume

Mortal Geography.

Alexandra Teague's "Language Lessons"

LANGUAGE LESSONS

The carpet in the kindergarten room

was alphabet blocks; all of us fidgeting

on bright, primary letters. On the shelf

sat this week's inflatable sound. The Th

was shaped like a tooth. We sang

about brushing up and down, practiced

exhaling while touching our tongues

to our teeth. Next week, a puffy U

like an upside-down umbrella; the rest

of the alphabet deflated. Some days,

we saw parents through the windows

to the hallway sky. Look, a fat lady,

a boy beside me giggled. Until then

I'd only known my mother as beautiful.

--Alexandra Teague,

from her recent --and recently award-winning-- volume

Mortal Geography.

I love this book of poems.

"Language Lessons" catches more than a moment of childhood, I think.