At a little distance—
Sun shone but it was far colder than yesterday.
I was cold.
grave evening
Someday, someone will write: Three years she grew
in,
But it will not be for me,
it will be for
William went up
into the Orchard and finished the Poem.
(the Orchard above the house)
Heartened that he finished. He is fretful when
he doesn't.
Also, people will say of me—I wasted—
I
held him back.
Beefsteaks.
thinking it would strengthen me and
so it did
quiet in the moonshine
Masses of Shade
head on the table when Miss Simpson came in.
I gave him the pillow but he slept so
fitfully.
Green passed us with his cart—
before me & I saw a red light on Silver How
broiled Beefsteaks.
light but it was fading
given over singing
broke more & more
read me his poem
saw this lowly Building
Dove Cottage is low
we have been so happy
William charged me
death & went to bed before him—
A giant among men. 5'9" when
others were 5'4".
Mary came. Annette claimed not to know me.
I died in a small room—just down
the road. Follow, I will show you.
Green passed us with his cart—
dinner time—
Something in the air compelled me
Bright silver
slept
At a little distance— first appeared in the Summer 2003 issue of Barrow Street
Procession
i
The uncle walks beside him because the father is dead.
How often in life we lose that which is most precious to us.
Esther says the Japanese don't love the cherry blossoms because they are beautiful
but because they are evanescent.
ii
(His small eyes cried.)
On the streets of the capital, the elephant met an old woman.
As a sign of her favor she bought him a pair of spats.
Deep in the jungle, his kingship resumed, her companionship never failed him.
Misfortune and the bitter angels blew through the gauze curtains.
Would she recover? She did, as did the other great counselor, felled by fire.
In the manicured garden, she states her conclusion:
"You see how in this life we must never be discouraged."
But they are elephants and what are we to do.
iii
(The bones of the father are buried in this same water.)
From the top of the hill, where the boy played with his father when
the years were different, the harbor is visible.
There is smooth sailing in life or not it seems not
in the cards for us to know which or why.
Or perhaps it's our fault and the real world goes on hitchless
and without confusion.
The spot we are standing on is called the threshing circle.
We are all threshed out.
Procession first appeared in the Winter 2006 issue of Barrow Street
Chiasson's Dream of Elephants
What makes us care so much about animals? I write "a small rodent heart"
at the end of a line and the teacher writes "sentimental?"
They're a way into what's wrong. So, when Dan Chiasson takes up natural
history, his work strikes a chord. Hoping
there's a way out of this mess on a bike or a plane and that
elephants aren't as sad as he makes them.
My young cousin-niece once or two times removed may have met
him, Chiasson that is, I hope the elephant
held his tongue and did not say anything when she came by he is
too sad. Terminally. Which is Chiasson's point but
when approached by an undergrad he may go slowly. Have a care
for her mother, her father, her aunt.
Death rides on a ship, it rides on a plane, it rides on a board and a
stretcher, stretched out like a three-days rain.
Wet, soggy. Makes the leaves grow. That's what they say.
Yup, that's what they say.
Chiasson's Dream of Elephants first appeared in the Winter 2006 issue of Barrow Street
NOTES:
At a little distance— pays tribute to Dorothy Wordsworth and her relationship with her brother William. Many of the phrases in the poem are from Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journals, selected by a numeric procedure, and bound together by my own words. The scattered arrangement of the words and phrases is meant to suggest the highly charged mood of the speaker. I visited Grasmere in 1999 with my daughter.
Procession is based on events I witnessed in Greece and on elements of the Babar stories. Couplets can be a way to focus thought, and they worked that way for me here. Thanks to my sister-in-law for her remark about cherry blossoms, which crystallized the poem.
Chiasson's Dream of Elephants refers to Dan Chiasson, until recently poet-in-residence at Amherst College, and author of a book of poems entitled Natural History. This particular couplet form was invented by Chiasson. This poem is a bad dream, a nightmare of fright and confusion—saved by a voice.
