Kelly DeMaegd, You Wouldn’t Know

Kelly DeMaegd
YOU WOULDN’T KNOW

To look at him
you wouldn’t know
that he is able
to tease a fat bead
of solder into a line
the width of a spider’s leg.

You wouldn’t know
that he meticulously trims
ten foot topiaries
with embroidery scissors.
Inspects each stem,
clips each leaf.

You wouldn’t know
that when his wife
became seriously ill
he stayed awake nights
to gently hold the sheet
away from her aching body.

You wouldn’t know
that he believes
in the old-fashioned notion of rotation,
socks, mattresses, garden crops,
thoroughly documented
on the calendar.

When asked why there are no children,
he ponders the properties of glass,
lead, spruce, cotton,
of any living organism
altered, molded,
crushed, smoothed, severed.

He thinks long and hard,
finally replies
that he may not have the patience
to be a good father.
To look at him,
you wouldn’t know.

Author’s Comment:
This poem is an homage to my loving, easy-going husband. On a deeper level it explores choices that each of us may make when we’re not fully cognizant of our motives or character.

Bio: Kelly DeMaegd currently lives in Sherrills Ford, North Carolina with her husband. Her first published poem was in the previous issue of Wild Goose. She has subsequently been published by Vox Poetica as well. She spends her time creating mixed media collage, gardening and writing poetry.