Later I will not be sanctuary.
I will tell her I can’t imagine marrying her
or having kids. I will be cruel & clueless —
but not yet. I was an innocent —
at the top of a rise on the way to the Jemez
I was full of wonder, rapturous over the vivid
yellow of aspen turning along an arc of river,
amazed at such piercing beauty in this high desert.
Later she will return to her ex-husband,
give him another chance despite his anger,
his affair, his decline into violence. I will tell
her “He will never change. Please don’t
do this.” She will weigh my pleas, my carefully
marshaled arguments. “And,” she will say,
“I have to — for the kids.”
I was once named And. I was once sanctuary. After
we started dating, one late night her ex rampaged,
& she & her kids were in danger. On the phone,
in a desperate, small voice she explained, then
asked “Can we stay for the night?” I answered,
“Of course” & they were there with me, sanctuary
for once. Safe, the kids slept in my bedroom. In the next
room we were quiet, didn’t sleep
for the longest, sweetest time.
She welcomed me — the Anglo new from Hawaii —
to her family. They showed me something of their
New Mexico. We hiked into the Sandia foothills,
ate at the sprawling New Mexico-style buffet
on the east side, went to the State Fair. At her home
she piled our plates with potatoes & beans, chile
& tortillas. She nourished me, quenched
my vast thirst for a time.
We were on the way to the Jemez. She was
at the wheel, her teenagers in the backseat.
They were always polite & kind, & from
the beginning took me — their mom’s boyfriend—
At the top of a rise the land rolled away under
an enormous sky. Her eyes sparkled & her teens
smiled over my enthusiasm & rapture over
the arc of brilliant yellow below us. Later, I will
be unintentionally clueless and cruel, & she
will plan her family’s return to her ex — but not yet.
They are that place on the way to the Jemez —
possibility and beauty, so breathtaking, so fragile.
Andrew Shattuck McBride
PaPoWriMo ~ 2012 *Day Nineteen Poem*
October 18, 2012