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The Opposites Game

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For Patricia Maisch

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This day my students and [br]I play the Opposites Game

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with a line from Emily Dickinson. [br]My life had stood

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a loaded gun, it goes and [br]I write it on the board,

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pausing so they can call [br]out the antonyms –

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My Your

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Life Death

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Had stood ? Will sit

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A Many

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Loaded Empty

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Gun ?

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Gun.

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For a moment, very much [br]like the one between

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lightning and its sound, [br]the children just stare at me,

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and then it comes, a flurry, [br]a hail storm of answers –

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Flower, says one. No, Book, says another. [br]That's stupid,

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cries a third, the opposite of a [br]gun is a pillow. Or maybe

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a hug, but not a book, [br]no way is it a book. With this,

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the others gather their thoughts

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and suddenly it’s a shouting match. [br]No one can agree,

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for every student there’s a final answer. [br]It's a song,

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a prayer, I mean a promise, [br]like a wedding ring, and

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later a baby. Or what’s that [br]person who delivers babies?

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A midwife? Yes, a midwife. [br]No, that’s wrong. You're so

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wrong you’ll never be right again. [br]It's a whisper, a star,

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it's saying I love you into your [br]hand and then touching

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someone's ear. Are you crazy? [br]Are you the president

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of Stupid-land? You should be, [br]When's the election?

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It’s a teddy bear, a sword, [br]a perfect, perfect peach.

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Go back to the first one, [br]it's a flower, a white rose.

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When the bell rings, I reach [br]for an eraser but a girl

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snatches it from my hand. [br]Nothing's decided, she says,

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We’re not done here. [br]I leave all the answers

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on the board. The next day [br]some of them have

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stopped talking to each other, [br]they’ve taken sides.

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There's a Flower club. [br]And a Kitten club. And two boys

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calling themselves The Snowballs. [br]The rest have stuck

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with the original game, [br]which was to try to write

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something like poetry.

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It's a diamond, it's a dance,

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the opposite of a gun is [br]a museum in France.

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It's the moon, it's a mirror,

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it's the sound of a bell and the hearer.

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The arguing starts again, [br]more shouting, and finally

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a new club. For the first time [br]I dare to push them.

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Maybe all of you are right, I say.

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Well, maybe. Maybe it's everything [br]we said. Maybe it’s

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everything we didn't say. It's words [br]and the spaces for words.

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They're looking at each other now. [br]It's everything in this

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room

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and outside this room and down [br]the street and in the sky.

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It's everyone on campus and at the mall, [br]and all the people

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waiting at the hospital.[br]And at the post office. And, yeah,

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it's a flower, too. All the flowers. [br]The whole garden.

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The opposite of a gun is [br]wherever you point it.

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Don’t write that on the board, [br]they say. Just say poem.

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Your death will sit through [br]many empty poems.