Today, Fictional Café introduces two fine poems from two fine American poets in our virtual magazine. Please let us know what you think of their work in the Comments section at the end of this post. Frank De Canio Language Primer I might as well become a child again, since my substantial English goes as far as what my senorita comprehends. As such, my native tongue becomes a bar against pronounced exchanges with my friend. She understands enough of what I say to stumble through the meaning I intend, but not enough for me to get my way. Yet, speaking fluent Spanish to her peers, she leaves me feeling witless in my age, while she with rapid fluency endears herself to those in the proficient stage of verbal mastery. And I must wait on textbook…
“That Finals Hour,” Poetry by John Grey
THAT FINALS HOURIt’s not complacency. It’s stupefaction.The final is in an hour. And I’m notsucking this pen like a popsicle.Behind my lips, I’m in a chewing frenzy.Yes, I’m sipping coffee. And peelingand orange. But the activity requiredis like a drug. My frayed nerves deserveno less. Some friends stroll by.Trades looks tell all. Once eyesadopt a principle of honesty,self-confidence falls flat on its own face.In a room to the building on my right,it’s not a simple mathematics test thatawaits but the labors of Hercules.A growling Nemean lion of an algebrapuzzle. A geometrical hydra. Astamping, snorting, trigonometryCretan Bull. Compared to me,the ancient strongman had it easy.He could stop at twelve. Ah, if onlythe test were on mythology. Allthose contradictory characteristics.Gods and heroes. The supernatural.The bloody. The inspiring. Themiraculous. Best of all, one plus oneonly had to equal…