Bathtub Families

This week, I attended a poetry reading by Poet Laureate Billy Collins.  

He easily would have been one of my favorite professors in college.  I had been introduced to his work by a friend a couple years ago, but I was only familiar with a few of his poems - most notably The History Teacher.  What a delightful evening!  I know this is obvious, but it's one thing to read a poem on a page, and very much another thing to hear the author's inflection as he intended... they are more immediate, more accessible.  And some of his poems are hysterical.  There was one, in particular, that I now have a pretty big crush on. 

Bathtub Families

is not just a phrase I made up

though it would have given me pleasure

to have written those words in a notebook

then looked up at the sky wondering what they meant.

No, I saw Bathtub Families in a pharmacy

on the label of a clear plastic package

containing one cow and four calves,

a little family of animals meant to float in your tub.

I hesitated to buy it because I knew

I would then want the entire series of Bathtub Families,

which would leave no room in the tub

for the turtles, the pigs, the seals, the giraffes, and me.

It's enough just to have the words,

which alone make me even more grateful

that I was born in America

and English is my mother tongue.

I was lucky, too, that I waited

for the pharmacist to fill my prescription,

otherwise I might not have wandered

down the aisle with the Bathtub Families.

I think what I am really saying is that language 

is better than reality, so it doesn't have

to be bath time for you to enjoy

all the Bathtub Families as they float in the air around your head.

from Ballistics (2008)

I have a reputation for recording and collecting clever turns of phrase (or at least instructing someone else to write it down!).  So while a friend thought we were being called out on our behavior, I took the justification path - "no, look, Billy Collins's persona does it too!"  The difference is that I would have bought the Bathtub Family to keep around my house.  Much like I did the Bag of Plagues at Publix one passover season.  Maybe it would have been sufficient to keep the Bag of Plagues in the air around my head.

And I can't walk down the halls of our school anymore without giggling at spurious acclamations of praise.

Oh, My God!

Not only in church

and nightly by their bedsides

do young girls pray these days.

Wherever they go,

prayer is woven into their talk

like a bright thread of awe.

Even at the pedestrian mall

outburst of praise

spring unbidden from their glossy lips.

from Ballistics (2008)

Other highlights (links when I can find 'em):

Serenade

How Poets Read Prose (published as Searching)

Dharma

Tension

Forgetfulness