Saturday, September 26, 2009

Late Wife - Claudia Emerson


A little bit of a quick return to one of my favs.

In Late Wife, a she explores her disappearance from one life and reappearance in another as she addresses her former husband, herself, and her new husband in a series of epistolary poems.

Though not satisfied in her first marriage, she laments vanishing from the life she and her husband shared for years.

She then describes the unexpected joys of solitude during her recovery and emotional convalescence.

Finally, in a sequence of sonnets, she speaks to her new husband, whose first wife died from cancer.


One of the most touching poems is when she realizes that her first marriage is over.

For those of you... divorced.. or separated.. maybe you can see a sliver of yourself in the poem.


Pitching Horseshoes


Some of your buddies might come around
for a couple of beers and a game,
but most evenings, you pitched horseshoes


alone. I washed up the dishes
or watered the garden to the thudding
sound of the horseshoe in the pit,


or the practiced ring of metal
against metal, after the silent
arc – end over end. That last


summer, you played a seamless, unscored
game against yourself. Or night
falling. Or coming in the house.


You were good at it. From the porch
I watched you become shadowless,
then featureless, until I knew


you couldn't see either, and still
the dusk rang out, your aim that easy;
between the iron stakes you had driven


into the hard earth yourself, you paced
back and forth as if there were a decision
to make, and you were the one to make it.


A gorgeous and poignant evocation of a moment of personal loss and the beginning of a new journey.

If you liked it.. look for the book.. a Pulitzer Prize winner!
Late Wife ~ Claudia Emerson

It may make you sad.. but it will definitely touch you and remain with you forever!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Ladybug - A poem about breaking up


There are times when a broken heart can be your best muse.

A moth... upended...
lies like a silky oak leaf
a collapsed tent between window frame and glass.
Stillness in death hides a mass of smaller details
and the dirt beneath.
The white sill is water-stained
on it life is dirt and still.

The fresh daisies
are drinking their glass of water.
This wish is sear
This wish is severe
What you ruin... ruins you eventually
and so we hope for miracles
I mean.. I hope.

A ladybug explores the window
I wander a similar path
my undercarriage not as evident.
I wish it well.. it seems to me
But.... yet... I am but me - to you it is clear.
I mean to vanish and unclear
and project on you some ancient fear.

If I were an insect, I would not be
this tented winged thing, fluttering like a lost bird
skinny legged like me, kissing the damp air
fumbling towards the face of another... seeking.
It came in last night as I closed the door.

I law awake, in the dark, seeing it touch my face
in my mind's eye.

It wanted out. I wanted out as well

I offered you a way through
Arms wide for wings.
Your suffering twinned with mine.
Your joy a companion.
Screen
Your lack of courage drives me in.
Doubt for dirt, white sheet for sill
You never stay enough or still
Enough to be likened to