University of Northern Iowa

YokeAuthor(s): Priscilla AtkinsSource: The North American Review, Vol. 288, No. 1 (Jan. - Feb., 2003), p. 33Published by: University of Northern IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25126892 .

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BILL MEISSNER

the wooden hammers, their dry wood splitting, the confused black lines

of wire, all those sour notes

they'd hold too long.

Before the all-school concert, in the lavatory,

I flattened my cowlick with Brylcreem.

Deep in the mirror, a kid played a jazzy song, nimble fingers

dancing on the cool porcelain sink.

Standing offstage behind the musty curtain, listening for my name to buzz through the tin speakers in the gym ceiling, I squeezed the Flowers in Spring sheet music in my palm.

Then I crossed the stage, my back rigid,

thinking about that song I could play so perfectly in my dreams.

I lowered myself to the sticky enameled bench,

my shirt tucked in too tightly, and stared at the endless keys. Like the rows of people in the audience, they grinned at me nervously,

just waiting for that first mistake.

PRISCILLA ATKINS

Yoke

My husband is standing in the living room

ironing his shirts; he has a system,

starting with the sleeves, up and down the lengths,

finishing with each cuff.

For moments, a sheath of blue cotton floats

over the board like an artist's creation of falling light, or a parent covering a sleeping child,

then, after nudging each open armhole onto the point,

he carefully presses the rectangular swath

that will cover his upper back.

He doesn't know the name for it

but informs me that giving it its due

is what separates the pros from the amateurs

in this arena of steam and stainless steel.

In the television's glow, his face flickers

between concentration and pleasure.

His mouth curves up without exactly smiling.

His round cheeks, round forehead, tilted face, remind me of his mother?how the one picture

we have of her lets me know

where he gets his kindness,

how, despite the bumps and curves in a wrinkled past, a capacity for giving attention to what counts

can survive intact.

January-February 2003 NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW 33

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