THE
OKLAHOMA
REVIEW

Volume 8 | Issue 2 | Fall 2007






Poetry






Nathan Klose

 
Grandpa Sits Us Down


Always roll out of bed like an old pine cone. Run
out of hot water before you've even hopped in the shower. On Monday,
stop at the first flower shop on the way to work and

buy out all its roses. Tuck a few inside your breast pocket so that
people have to stop and smell you. Huck half of the rest
in a bin, place the other half behind the shop

in a little rain water. Bend down to tighten
your shoe laces every time you punch in. Do so until your feet
look like

two worn out smiles and
your wife begins to say she said
yes only 'cause she admired the joy in your step.
Spill something

on your shirt at least once a day

and then, before you've even unbuttoned your neck
button or rocked your tie, kindly ask your wife to rub
it out with club soda. When she's close enough,

rediscover her hair, its smell, its subtle taste, and then you can
unbutton the neck button, and then you can rock the tie. If you

really want to get through the week unscratched, or want to be love
to those you love, or want to marry old and die young --
do this, start this. Your grandpa
has to use the bathroom now.

 


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The views expressed in The Oklahoma Review do not necessarily correspond to those of Cameron University, and the university's support of this magazine should not be seen as an endorsement of any philosophy other than faith in -- and support of -- free expression. The content of this publication may not be reproduced without the written consent of The Oklahoma Review or the authors. © 2007 The Oklahoma Review