Lessons in Mathematics
My father taught me everything
except geometry. (He’d never seen it.)
Once we got beyond arithmetic,
he couldn’t help with homework.
…….
As a boy, he’d pull his rusted red wagon
down to the A&P on Harrison Avenue
and haul women’s groceries for tips.
Fridays and Saturdays were best for business—
he missed every school dance.
Still he’d whistle on the walk home
with his pockets full of nickels,
head humming with sums and interest.
…………..
Then he enlisted.
The calculus of poverty
is its own rigged lottery,
but his eyes would glisten
when he talked about the mess
at Long Binh:
the math of feeding all those mouths,
the giant bags of flour, the powdered eggs.
…….
He didn’t cook much at home—
we used to joke that he couldn’t make
pancakes for fewer than four hundred.
But after his shift at the firehouse,
if he found me awake with my books,
he’d fry up a pack of Steak-umms,
then take the lid from a pickle jar
and cut out perfect disks of white bread
for his famous “circle sandwiches.”
We’d sit in silence at the kitchen table
while we ate. I didn’t know much
about love then, but I knew the shape.
about love then, but I knew the shape.
by Amy Dougher-Solórzano
from Rattle Magazine
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