Stuttering
A poem by Theodore Browne

Stuttering

is hard to control when you’re a nervous
young boy
stumbling over words in the dark
hitting furniture
knocking down lamps
or during daylight
striking out on the baseball field
with a chorus of round-faced kids
laughing out of key.

II.
When I taught my first English class
that little stuttering schoolboy
returned to haunt me,
remind me
that he was still nervous, still afraid
of ghosts and goblins
walking the beat on our Halloween streets.

III.
My mother shakes
whenever she is nervous.

IV.
In line at J.C. Penney’s
two cops in blue
stand behind her
their golden badges
shining like the face
of a mad train birthed screaming out of a tunnel.

V.
Far from the cash register
I notice what is going on
quietly walk up
see
the woman I love and trust
shaking
not saying a word.
I begin stuttering and screaming
inside my head
but no one hears me.

VI.
Tonight I count
the empty chairs of my classroom
one…two…three…
I remember
my mother and begin to calm down
It’s as if we’re counting together
praying together
for all the guns
to remain silent.

About the Author:

Theodore Browne received his Bachelor’s in English from the University of Wisconsin-Parkside, and his M.A. and Ph.D. are from the University of Nebraska. He is the recipient of several teaching and scholarly awards, including the winner of three Teacher-of-the-Year awards. He is a Professor of English who teaches undergraduate, graduate, and honors courses and is the Chair of the Department of Language and Literature at Abilene Christian University. He is the author of two scholarly books, a best-selling children’s book author, and a published poet.

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