Jefferson Carter

February 5, 2020

“Life Partner” by Jefferson CarterPosted by

Jefferson Carter

LIFE PARTNER

For convenience, I & my life partner
(the woman formerly known as my wife)
have numbered our arguments. Number 3,
you’re so negative. Number 5, you left
hair in the sink again. Number 8, you’re
naive. Number 11, another beer already? 
Number 13, you don’t listen to me.
But I do. I just don’t agree. Now
my life partner’s on the couch, watching
Live P.D. She’s pleased with the police,
so kind to the miscreants & trailer trash
they apprehend. Of course, they’re
kind! They’re on camera! Without
looking at me, she holds up three fingers.

My life partner wants to make a deal:
she’ll stop storing our broken pepper mill
upright in the spice rack, pepper everywhere
like coarse soot. She’ll store the mill
on its side if I stop switching off the light
over the dining room table whenever
she’s in another room. Why? Why
does she need that light on all day?
She raises both fists & opens each one
twice. Number 20, you don’t love me.

—from Rattle #66, Winter 2019

__________

Jefferson Carter: “I grew up with three sisters and a brother. We didn’t have TV, so we entertained ourselves by teasing each other mercilessly, a habit I never broke and which too often shows up in my poetry. After I recited ‘Life Partner’ at a reading, my wife, Connie, held out her hand palm down, meaning ‘enjoy the couch tonight.’” (web)

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February 15, 2019

“For My Sister, the Feminist” by Jefferson CarterPosted by

Jefferson Carter

FOR MY SISTER, THE FEMINIST

You told me
I can’t imagine
what it’s like
being a woman.

But I can
imagine being a horse,
a thoroughbred trained
against her nature
to outrun the safety
of the herd.

I can imagine
being a spoon, a loaf
of bread, a hummingbird,
even a werewolf,
in-grown hairs & all.
Why not a woman?

Don’t you remember
the night you woke up
sobbing & I left
my bed down the hall
to hold your hand
until you fell back to sleep?

—from Rattle #62, Winter 2018

__________

Jefferson Carter: “As a poet, I’m an opportunist, not a writer with a project. Whatever tickles my fancy I write about, an exhilarating evening out with a poet friend or a dream about my younger sister. In grad school, I fell in love with Jonathan Swift; forty years later, I still must control my satirical bent to shield whatever is tender in my poems.” (web)

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