Leading the file of boys, the black eyes
came to class. Those deep-sea,
oil-black eyes that seemed to make
a twilight in the room, were turned
towards me always as I moved
until, stared out, uneasy, I
attended to some paper. A rich
and resonant fat-man snore declared itself
out of some caverns that his tiny frame,
packed with thin bones, could not contain.
The face was in repose,
pale as the daytime moon. Meeting the open
eyes again, I saw much more
than facile innocence — a temperament
I could not name, not only vulnerable,
not only wise.
He eclipsed
my understanding daily after that. His lies
were punctuated with a shrug, as much full stop
as question mark; he made eye-contact, always,
half-beseeching, half-demanding
trust. He was not Hansel at the mercy
of the wildwood and the witch, nor quite
that other woodland boy, young Siegfried,
unschooled in fear. I wondered when
the Devil had apologised to him, restored
him to an Eden where no apples grew;
or whether Jesus, having turned his wine
to water, had once made him sick.
He was not born beneath a silver sky
whose stars were black. I had not thought
the school-bus ran where shadows,
coruscating, cast
dark figures. Yet the field
of those unfathomable eyes was where
light gravitated, and was lost.
James Graham was born in 1939 in Ayrshire, Scotland, in a rural cottage lit by oil lamps. He was a teacher for thirty years, but would rather have been a celebrated journalist and best-selling author. His work has appeared in The Dark Horse, Poetry Scotland, and anthologies published by Edinburgh University Press, the Glasgow Centre for Contemporary Arts, the Ragged Raven Press, and others. His second collection, His second collection, Clairvoyance, was published by Troubador Press in 2007. James is currently a ‘site expert’ and tutor in verse-writing with the internet writers’ community Writewords.org.uk.
7 Responses to “SCHOOLBOY • by James Graham”
Comments
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June 18th, 2009 at 5:45 am
How does the voice know so deeply about the boy:
“Yet the field of those unfathomable eyes was where light gravitated, and was lost.”
If (from the voice): “He eclipsed my understanding daily after that.”?
Why “lies”?
This is a very absorbing poem of a studied youngster. But I do not understand how the voice of eclipsed understanding came to those conclusions about him.
June 18th, 2009 at 7:13 am
Beautiful poem, James. Excellent. A 5 from me.
June 18th, 2009 at 7:52 am
Evocative, rhythmic, craft is evident. I enjoyed multiple readings.
June 18th, 2009 at 8:12 am
I’m with Roberta. I want to know about this boy…about the voice.
June 18th, 2009 at 8:42 am
Marvelous vision from youthful days.
–dj
June 18th, 2009 at 9:09 am
A little too deep for me today, I guess. Perhaps if I reread a third or fourth time it might begin to take hold. Right now it just seems out of reach. My rule of thumb is if I can’t totally get into a poem after two careful readings, I’m probably not going to.
June 21st, 2009 at 2:18 am
A very deep poem, I think I’ll have to read it quite a few times to get the entire meaning – will be a pleasure to reread, compelling poem.
fehmida