Poem: Thinking of Reeve

I don't even know Christopher Reeve and yet think of him often.

Thinking of Reeve Three or four days a week     I have jam and toast for breakfast     and each and every time, buttering,     I think of Christopher Reeve How strange are these associations that spring     from an ordinary chore Christopher Reeve was paralyzed, now dead,     the victim of a fall from a horse     and I have spent much of my life     on horses But that’s not the key to this flashed image,     our connection’s simpler than that He played a secondary role in a movie     titled The Remains Of The Day     that was made from a book I loved And in this movie his butler makes him toast,     precisely spread with jam,     as butlers do or at least as butlers did I’m stuck with this remembrance     can’t or wouldn’t shake it, just smile     and wonder if was a help to him,     this constancy of Christopher in my mind Perhaps . . . there’s energy that flows from thought     and mine came to him at time for toast

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.