‘Faux Pas’ and Other Poetry by C.B. Anderson

Faux Pas

after Don Paterson

When I decanted red, not white, and she called me a fool
I bit my tongue, remembering that bird from Liverpool

who kept her infant near the cooker while a cauldron boiled
for sanitising nappies that the darling child had soiled

and how the wine chat on the telly must have turned her head
and caused her to immerse not laundry but the babe instead.

Sobriety Test, for All Ages

“Say when,” she said, while pouring whisky from
A bottle filled in Scotland. I, pretending
Not to have heard her speak, remained as dumb
As stone, reluctant to effect an ending

To generosity that seemed near boundless.
She filled my beaker almost to the top
And smiled as if to say my doubts were groundless,
Then frowned as though unable to estop

Indifference she’d affected earlier.
I did some sipping, loath to risk a spill,
And noticed that her hair seemed curlier
Than it had been before. By force of will,

I set the beaker down and summoned talents
I hadn’t used in more than twenty years,
For, after all, the night hung in the balance—
I did my best to quell her latent fears.

The curling hair, I thought, was just a sign
That she was frightened by the sudden dawn
Of cognizance, and I contrived benign
Supports for her to lean her feelings on.

Quite soon, I guessed I’d turned her heart, and so
Unloosed my own upon the perfect weather
Her fresh approach ordained, and let her know
That consummation is the vital tether

Connecting young desire with what can be.
But I’d guessed wrong. She told me I should drain
My cup and find another fantasy,
Go home and rest my old befuddled brain.

C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden.  Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India.  His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.