Tonight, I got to hear Kathleen Flenniken read poetry at the Coupeville Library. Her last poem was entitled “Coyote” and played on the two pronunciations of the word. Which triggered this poem for me:
Finding Freud
My buoyant 10-year old self
loves to hear the sound
of her own voice.
She will read anything
out loud.
The insides of slick CD inserts,
chapters in textbooks,
synopses of television programs
found beneath the nightly
schedule in the newspaper.
Her mother is inundated
with menus of summer camps
for precocious children.
Most outside of the price range
of possibility.
10-year old me
reads these brochures out loud
to get a taste
of where her hungry mind
might go.
In a description of a class
about psychology
she sounds out “Free-oode”
(instead of Freud.)
Her mother muffles laughter,
then guffaws.
10-year old me
stops in her tracks.
Her voice crumbles.
She smiles sheepishly,
goes to her room
pretending to have homework.
***
Three years later,
I win a contest
to be a guest announcer
on a quiz show
broadcast
on Public Radio International.
I practice privately.
My mother
makes me read the script
out loud to her.
I comply begrudgingly.
The flawless end is in sight
except for tripping
on Ter-kelle.
Studs Terkelle.
My mother gently corrects
my mispronunciation.
Her eyes are kind.
“Terkel. Studs Terkel.”
***
Oral or aural history,
it doesn’t matter
there will be these inevitable slips.
Push past them
to find greater resonance.
Every girl’s voice
deserves amplification.
Youth is not a handicap.
Gender should not be used
as a plunger mute
to surpress the timbre
of trumpeting.