The Tookany Review  Vol. II Fall/Winter 2006/2007

In this issue

Linda Barrett

Claudia Beechman

E Twan Crawford

Ed D'Ancona

Ruth Deming

Myra Edwards

Jan Felgoise

Jan Goldman

Marvin Thall

Edited by Deborah Fries

At this time, the Tookany Review
 is accepting only the work of
writers who are enrolled
or have been enrolled in
Cheltenham Adult School
writing workshops.

For more information about
 writing workshops offered by
the Cheltenham Township Adult School, contact:

Cheltenham Township Adult School
1414 Panther Road
Wyncote, PA 19095
Phone: 215-887-1720

Ruth Deming
Two poems

   The Second Time You Died   

     Written in memory of Christopher T. Ray, 1937-2000

     When you died
     I was underground in the
     subway station listening
     to the whoosh of the cars
     as if they were carrying you away
     like Lincoln's coffin in the caboose

     and remembered
     the purple silk dress
     I wore at my sister's wedding
     after talking your shy self
     into coming along

     oh, I got so drunk on champagne
     inside the wedding tent that pelted with rain
     drunk so I could feel more in love
     with you
     and wanted the feeling to stay forever
     because in fact I was losing you

     the day after,
     the rhododendrons were in bloom
     purple
     I waited for your morning call
     we had our coffees together
     sipping in separate kitchens
     me, after putting the kids on the bus,
     you, in your carriage house
     in Germantown with your
     sculptures in the backyard

     your call was late
     "I'm breaking up with you,"
     you said.
     I sat down on the cold tile floor
     and watched my coffee cup tremble,
     listening to what I knew were
     the last words I'd ever
     hear from your lips.

     yes, there were signs,
     there always are,
     a woman named Deirdre,
     a dancer,
     you hadn't left me for her,
     sparing me that indignation,
     you used her instead as a stepping stone
     to get rid of me

     I wrote you a long letter
     saying how much I'd miss you
     not trying to get you back
     for that was impossible
     but simply saying
     my loss was my Guernica
     and thanked you for taking me
     that sunny day for a walk downtown
     A Sculptor and His Girl –
     showing me
     the way the gates were woven
     in iron on the front of the stately banks
     and the famous City Hall
     then taking me to the little park
     on Chestnut Street to see the
     Wissahickon Gate...
     yours

     I've never gone back,
     gates forged in iron
     the way you forged yourself
     forever into this girl's heart,

     Someday when the rhododendrons
     bloom again
     I may take out your photos
     from the top drawer
     you in your jeans and plaid flannel shirt
     your blue Mazda truck
     parked outside my apartment
     gleaming blue forever and
     your trim beard and eyes
     I used to kiss.


  More from Ruth Deming

Ruth Z. Deming is a psychotherapist and executive director of New Directions Support Group for people with mood disorders and their loved ones. Her hobbies include gardening, swimming, and talking to total strangers. Favorite poets include Walt Whitman, Mary Oliver, and Rabindranath Tagore.