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"A drop in the bucket"

By Don SharePosted Tuesday, Oct. 11, 2005, at 7:05 AM ET

Click here to listen to Don Share read this poem.

My mother, not quoting Coleridge: Water, water
everywhere, not a single drop to drink.
"Nor" was not her style, nor was her addition
of "single" or dropping of "and" singular.
She added many a word to what my father
failed to say, or said. This was the rule in her
extempore kingdom of sentences and kitchen sink.
She was well-spoken ... unlike my father, dryly brilliant
scientist who seldom said more than he meant—
nothing token, quotable, or extravagant.
Words, to Dad, were data, nothing to be spoken;
to Mom, syllables strung together, each a token.
My mother wanted to be remembered and quoted;
her magisterium was full-bore, lachrymose, full-throated.

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Don Share is curator of the Poetry Room at Harvard University and poetry editor of Harvard Review. His books include Union, Seneca in English, his translations of Miguel Hernandez, I Have Lots of Heart, and a new book, Squandermania.

Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.

Please note: Because Slate's backlog of accepted poems is substantial, poetry editor Robert Pinsky will not be reading new submissions until December 2005.

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