Genetics by Naomi Shihab Nye
I have to admit that both my mother and I love doing crossword puzzles. I used to do the NYT puzzle with my grandfather when I was a little girl. My uncle and I used to do the puzzle when I lived in Austin. So what does that say about nature vs. nurture?
Genetics
By Naomi Shihab Nye
From my father I inherited the ability
to stand in a field and stare.
Look, look at that gray dot by the fence.
It’s his donkey. My father doesn’t have
a deep interest in donkeys, more a figurative one.
To know it’s out there nuzzling the ground.
That’s how I feel about my life.
I like to skirt the edges. There it is in the field.
Feeding itself.
*
From my mother, an obsession about the stove
and correct spelling. The red stove, old as I am, must be
polished at all times. You don’t know this about me.
I do it when you’re not home.
The Magic Chef gleams in his tipped hat.
Oven shoots to 500 when you set it low.
Then fluctuates. Like a personality.
Thanks to my mother I now have an oven thermometer
but must open the oven door to check it.
Even when a cake’s in there. Isn’t that supposed to be
disaster for a cake?
My mother does crosswords, which I will never do.
But a word spelled wrongly anywhere
prickles my skin. Return to beginning
with pencil, black ink.
Cross you at the “a.” Rearrange.
We had family discussions
about a preference for the British grey.
In the spelling bee I tripped on reveille,
a bugle call, a signal at dawn.
I have risen early
ever since.
