Concerns

A Poem by Kherry McKay

The part that required research by the writer was the part about golf. . . .

Concerns

They worried about the kids
and where they would go to college.
They worried about who
the kids
would marry and whether
they would be respected.

They worried about items small and large—
IRA’s, Parental Controls for the cable;
whether her mother would live with them,
whether they would
trust his sister (and cognate husband)
with a loan.

Within a few years
they would worry about where to vacation;
he, about which golf clubs,
Taylormade or Callaway, and
whether Maxfli, at fifty bucks per dozen,
would deliver optimum flight distance with a wooden
driver despite his poor waggle.

She would worry
if he made love to her
out of duty, or desire, or quiet
accession. He would worry
if Viagra was the main thing keeping
them in bed, apart from needing sleep.

Silently, she would think about the
poet she once allowed into her heart:
whether he were writing furiously
somewhere in
a cold room, his soup heating
in a grimy kitchen—
a sole candle flickering,
flickering and sputtering as if love might go out;
he, believing even in death
we are not relieved of our concerns.