"Naming My Animals" by Pamela Wax

Those little red ones you like,

my husband said, pressing

his forefinger to the joint

in the middle of his thumb

to form a small circle.

He wants me to know what’s

on sale for my rebound trip

to Stop & Shop. Cherries?

I ask. He nods, I’m not good

at fruits and vegetables.

It’s true. His merchandise is tools.

He woodworks his way through

sanders and planes, can see

saws and squares, adzes

and lathes where I observe

mere machine and blade. I name

God-made things, labelling

clouds nimbus or cumulus,

contrasting heart-shaped leaves—

linden vs. aspen, mild-mannered

ladybugs with badass Asian Lady

Beetles. I know my apples—Gala,

Empire, Mac—and Dinosaur

from Red Russian kale,

both prehistoric. I try to classify

each tiered layer of grief—

its raging undercurrents of horror

and remorse, despair that douses

each morning’s blaze, reptilian

flights and freezes that hiss

anonymous curses at the waning

moon. Nuances abound,

and yet I am still trying to name

all my animals—every single

variegated beast of my heart.

Pamela Wax is the author of Walking the Labyrinth (Main Street Rag, 2022) and Starter Mothers (Finishing Line Press, 2023). Her poems have received several awards and two Best of the Net nominations. An ordained rabbi, Pam offers online spirituality and poetry workshops from her home in western Massachusetts.