Baby Boomer Carole Eddington’s Poem for the Ages

Carole Eddington is a poet, whom I’ve known only through facebook. The following is her poem — one of the most honest and revealing that I’ve had the pleasure to read in eons. This one is for the ages.

the day

wow what a weird day wow
it was seven then eleven
it was breakfast cheering for cheerios I was a child and
everything was sun and shimmer
I had tanned legs, scared of bees
watching it ALL, my omnicient gaze boring into the
poor defenseless scene around me
oh to be a beach, simple as expanse of sand and
infinite glasswater soulquench
then I met some boys

oh god, the desire for desired the
desire to be desired
the tight bellbottoms
the black eyeliner
hoping my sweetness was sexy or hard love could
be the ultimate depth of time spent
and way to own time

oh god, if we could have gotten A’s for the best cause-and-effect
in makeout, I learned so well and I remember
each pair of lips, the welcoming/welcome tongues
I remember agile young bods, soft skin, soft hair brushing my face
bright eyes flicking with appetite
tight black levis bulging with SOMETHING that school could mean
(I could go on but)

ridiculously in there I wrote a poem
it said who I was and why and it became a world
which I carried off to college and the countercultural education my parents
did not intend to pay for

there I found my man, and after drugs failed to save us
we found the Amazing Breakthrough and broke the wicked bubble
so there was finally hope
and I kept my poem in my back pocket
as I fought the greatest enemy of the ages

and I found me more and more
as I found old friends/old mates/soulmates
as I tried to wife and mother and citizen and good neighbor
through the struggle with artist/teacher/worldly lover/should I get a job/
what’s wrong with me/we’re so different/I’m good/I’m fucked/
I’m loved/I’m lost/I’m a fairygoddess/I’m not worthy but I’m

magic
I found I had abilities beyond but they didn’t pay the mortgage
or clean the house or mean shit to my relatives
so I covertly enhanced lives for a couple decades
and when asked what I did in life I self-consciously reached for my
back pocket as they changed the subject

it’s been a fucking weird day sitting on a stool
of all-consuming loves/fascinations/fantasies/contentments
lunching on sprouts and almond butter garnished with too heaping
failures to get to England or LA/finish anything/give fame to my name/conquer the
delight that distracts/get good at life or just be the good wife

but not long ago I spread my poem out, a picnic blanket,
a recreational blueprint to recreate my day
for fun, for a romp, an escape from the nonsensical sensible and for once
I decided to stay there, I decided it would be OK and that
set it all
right

so I find myself this afternoon somehow
apart somehow above and it’s quiet suddenly

and my poem is BIG and I feel and breathe and have dignity
but more important is the promise of the GRAND DINNER
I’m excitedly preparing, it’s serene/it’s green/
it’s truth and it’s alive and
what’s below (that I was wrestling with all day)
is fading little ash-insects scurrying away

what a day what a day as the shadows lengthen
the viewpoint elongates
my conductor arms tingle
I can have the world for dinner tonight

Copyright © 2003, 2009 by Carole Eddington. All rights reserved.