Strong Will

by Claire Scott


I sat for hours staring at the spinach on my plate
refusing to touch the disgusting pile of green
I insisted on wearing my pumpkin costume to school
long past Thanksgiving
in third grade I ate only mac and cheese
in college I wanted to marry you but you didn’t fit
the mold, no Princeton or Stanford
no medical or law degree in sight so
my parents refused to pay for a wedding
said I was ruining their lives, destroying their dreams
so we started a business selling magic wands
that people said no one would buy
no one believes in magic anymore they said
but the business flourished, and we went
to Paris for our honeymoon, spending lazy
days in the Louvre, nights on the Left Bank
the sky salted with stars

I miss you with your pointless puns and shapeless
songs, sung in some unknown key, you who remembers
I like lemon in my tea, Schubert sonatas, snapdragons
and the science section of The New York Times
your shoes a-jumble in the hall, a scramble of books
by your chair, your unwashed Warriors cup on the counter
the way they were that night the phone rang
as I was putting honey-glazed salmon in the oven
opening a bottle of Old Vine Zinfandel
today, my love, I will will you back


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"Strong Will" was first published in Talking River Review.

Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, Enizagam and The Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.