Lessons (Excerpt)

Lessons (Excerpt) is original text on Plexigas (edition of three). Coit writes:

“I remember the scene described with great warmth and incredible gratitude. I only had to hear that I was an appropriate part of the universe, along with chickens and cows and birds and dogs—the rightness of that—at a critical stage in my development. 

“I was given a chance to see life through the eyes of an intelligent immigrant woman with a sense of humor. I remember that whole family—Christian Polish immigrants—kind, warm and down to earth. I might have been seven, or six years old. I imagine that I could go online and find them, now, but I doubt many of them are still living; they have either been dead for years, or are 130 years old. They worked so hard. Farmers work very hard. I was allowed to go into the flowers, which they raised for florists in town, because I was careful.

 “I remember sitting with the whole family, near sundown or late afternoon, and one of them made a remark in Polish that I was beginning to develop. Someone said ‘cycki!’ and I fled in embarrassment. They ran after me, laughing and clapping. I remember that in gratitude: they were applauding my maturation.”

Text reads:

LESSONS
(excerpt)

THEY ARE RUBBER APRONED,
THREE DIMENSIONAL RECTANGLES
ARMORED IN OLD COTTON
DRESSES, WOOL CARDIGAN
SWEATERS AND GALOSHES,
TO DEFEND AGAINST THE
WORK. AS I WATCH
MRS. SUPLICKI’S HANDS,
SHE SLITS THE OVARIAN 
TUBE SO DEFTLY THAT
WHEN SHE SPREADS IT
SHE HAS NOT NICKED THE 
YOLK. SHE POINTS A 
RUBBER GLOVED FINGER TO
THE MIDDLE OF THE TUBE
TO THE CLEAR MUCUS. MY
EYES MEET HERS. HER EYE—
BROWS GO UP. SHE MOVES
MY FINGER FORWARD TO
THE LOWER END OF THE DEAD
HEN’S OVARIAN TRACT WHERE
IT IS FIRMER, CLEARLY DIFFERENT.
“SHELL,” I ASK?
“JA,” SHE SAYS.
SHE POKES ME ON EACH
SIDE OF MY UNAPPRECIATED
FLAT BELLY.
“SAME,” SHE SAYS.
“BABIES,” SHE SAID.
“NO SHELL,” SHE LAUGHS.”

M.B. COIT copyright 1992