She used to come to my school
to test my hearing
and see if my spine was straight,
she still wore her uniform
and carried those headphones,
so I played along.
I still could not hear
the high pitches in my right ear
and she said that word again,
about how my back was crooked.
I asked if we could measure my height,
she said I had grown up just fine,
how about my weight? I asked,
or possibly my reflexes?
She put her hand on my stomach
as a tender creature landing there.
She said I had eaten well.
I told her how much I always
looked forward to seeing her, and
that I wished to marry her some day
when I was old enough.
Suddenly my right ear went singing
and my back loosened a bit.
She told me there was one thing that
the nurses had missed over the years.
I had never learned how to swim,
and that while drawing a picture of
serenity, it seems I had fallen in.
I told her she was the prettiest of ladies.
My name is Alec Whittle and here are four pieces
for your consideration. I live in Seattle, I have performed and recorded
spoken word with various musicians in New York and Seattle, I have written
a few short films that have screened at festivals around the country as
well as one book entitled Along Still River. I am currently focusing on
more traditional means of getting my poetry out there. I thank you for