As You Stand Peeling an Orange

As You Stand Peeling an Orange AS YOU STAND PEELING AN ORANGE / Robert McNamara You are not beautiful in that way that they have of becoming, albeit awkwardly now, what they would make themselves seem; nor in that way of the simple, the soft, the single pure note held as time collapses in the silence: who might be anything, someday. Then there is what my daughter sees as she picks up, say, a stuffed bear, frazzled, a little threadbare--something that parted from her would be no longer itself. Always here, always giving her herself, what can it be but beautiful? And .finally, your favorite saying: at forty we have the face we deserve. So it is my daughter's face I see in my dream as I slap her for biting me as we stand overlooking Madrona Hill. A kind man behind her begins to sing, having felt her face as I've seen it, begins to sing, rebuking me, tumble back through evident shame to nothing, and gently, and laying a path for her return. At times I look with longing at my students' faces, tablets bland in their way, blank, that unfilled might fill this emptiness, Such beauties are always elsewhere, really, and http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

As You Stand Peeling an Orange

The Missouri Review, Volume 12 (2) – Oct 5, 1989

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

AS YOU STAND PEELING AN ORANGE / Robert McNamara You are not beautiful in that way that they have of becoming, albeit awkwardly now, what they would make themselves seem; nor in that way of the simple, the soft, the single pure note held as time collapses in the silence: who might be anything, someday. Then there is what my daughter sees as she picks up, say, a stuffed bear, frazzled, a little threadbare--something that parted from her would be no longer itself. Always here, always giving her herself, what can it be but beautiful? And .finally, your favorite saying: at forty we have the face we deserve. So it is my daughter's face I see in my dream as I slap her for biting me as we stand overlooking Madrona Hill. A kind man behind her begins to sing, having felt her face as I've seen it, begins to sing, rebuking me, tumble back through evident shame to nothing, and gently, and laying a path for her return. At times I look with longing at my students' faces, tablets bland in their way, blank, that unfilled might fill this emptiness, Such beauties are always elsewhere, really, and

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1989

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