Some poems don’t lend themselves well to glossing. “Late Dinner on the Deck” is probably one of those. Lyrical poems in particular, ones as much about mood, tone, emotion as message, can be hard to explicate.
On poetry.org, the definition of lyric poetry begins:
Lyric poetry refers to a short poem, often with songlike qualities, that expresses the speaker’s personal emotions and feelings.
It’s the personal emotions, rather than more global emotions, that drive a lyrical poem, though, of course, most poetry strikes some kind of mix between the personal and global.
Late Dinner on the Deck
A bit of bread and butter,
neither on the approved list.
Perhaps a dash of salt, too,
also not on the list.
So: three impossibilities.
Along Hemlock Creek,
frogs peep. A heron hunts the shallows,
one eye trailing a leashed pooch.
Feels like rain. Faded signs.
Still we love? Yes?
All labels erode.
Twigs green, buds hurry to bloom
Capture the rain, call the sun, time
slows for no one. All the worst
storms escape the jet stream,
move west, try to undo Spring.
Remembering they were once sand,
blown glass sconces eye the night.
A sprinkle of sesame seed, then.
Maybe some slivered garlic.
About both, the list is silent.
“Late Dinner on the Deck” is as much about the passage of time as the mood at dinner, the way nature hurries forth when perhaps we’d rather not, and how disconcerting it is when nature moves in an unexpected direction. The way, after a certain age, everyone seems to have a list of foods they can eat, can’t eat, shouldn’t eat, shouldn’t eat but do eat…
I would have like to have found an illustration that included some glass sconces, but combining that with a deck and dinner is a stretch. The idea of the glass remembering it came from sand is such a sad thought, so moody, and fits exactly with the dim lighting typically provided by a sconce.
A poem that, for me, has a similar feel is “Deciding Not To,” though they are dissimilar topics. Something about that heron, I guess.
Be First to Comment