“Things My Father Taught Me” by Kerrie Penney
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Things My Father Taught Me” by Kerrie Penney.
Things My Father Taught Me
By Kerrie Penney
Bleed a clutch and drive a standard,
carburetor —clip it open,
siphon gas and not to swallow,
jump start engines in a hurry,
classic British cars are better,
tell a Sunbeam from an Opal.
How to cut a steak and eat it,
water glass and where to place it,
how to order wine.
Send back the bottle that they bring you,
know that they are trying to cheat you,
white for fish and red for meat—
taught me how to drink.
Never wash a cast iron fry pan,
mushrooms butter nothing better,
taste a cheddar from a muenster,
brie is stronger when its warm.
Sound it out if you can’t read it.
If you can say it, try and spell it,
put that word into a sentence.
Think God damn it, think.
Copyright © Kerrie Penney
Previously published in This is How You Do It (Wintergreen Press, 2025).
Kerrie Penney is rooted in the Foothills of southern Alberta. Her words have appeared in The New Quarterly, Funny Pearls UK, the YYC Poet Laureate project, the Globe and Mail and most recently on a bespoke beer can. She explores the remarkable in the ordinary and hosts the Secret Heart Broadcasting podcast.
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