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"Draft"

Click here to listen to James Hoch reading this poem.



Some things, I knew,
were beyond choosing—
father leaving, the endless

caring for mother, that love
is a salving: what medics and nurses do.

Fodder,
I was too small to object,
the conscription too severe.

So when you said
you felt drafted
into marriage, the shutter

screwing up my face, you
quickly followed, just a metaphor,

putting me at ease.
Try another,
I said, closing the window,

drawing a breath between each
sentence, trailing closely every word.

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James Hoch teaches at Franklin and Marshall College. His most recent book of poems is A Parade of Hands.
Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.


Please note: Because Slate's backlog of accepted poems is substantial, poetry
editor Robert Pinsky will not be reading new submissions until December 2005.
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