After Reading There Might Be an Infinite Number of Dimensions
Martha Silano
I'm thinking today of how we hold it together,
arrive on time with the bottle of Zinfandel, a six-pack
of Scuttlebutt beer, how we cover our wrinkles
with Visible Lift, shove the mashed winter squash
into the baby's mouth, how we hold it all together
despite clogged rain gutters, cracked
transmissions, a new explanation for gravity's
half-hearted hold. I'm wondering how we do it,
comb the tangles from our hair, trim the unwieldy
camellia, speak to packed crowds about weight loss
or fractals. I'm wondering how we don't
fall to our knees, knowing a hardened pea,
lodged in the throat, can kill, knowing
liquids are banned on all commercial flights.
Leaves fall. The baby sucks her middle fingers.
Meanwhile, the refrigerator acquires
an unexplainable leak. Meanwhile, we call
the plumber, open wide for the dental hygienist,
check each month, with tentative circlings,
our aging breasts. Somehow, each morning,
the coffee gets made. Somehow, each evening,
the crossing guard lifts fluorescent orange flag,
and a child and her father cross the glistening street.
arrive on time with the bottle of Zinfandel, a six-pack
of Scuttlebutt beer, how we cover our wrinkles
with Visible Lift, shove the mashed winter squash
into the baby's mouth, how we hold it all together
despite clogged rain gutters, cracked
transmissions, a new explanation for gravity's
half-hearted hold. I'm wondering how we do it,
comb the tangles from our hair, trim the unwieldy
camellia, speak to packed crowds about weight loss
or fractals. I'm wondering how we don't
fall to our knees, knowing a hardened pea,
lodged in the throat, can kill, knowing
liquids are banned on all commercial flights.
Leaves fall. The baby sucks her middle fingers.
Meanwhile, the refrigerator acquires
an unexplainable leak. Meanwhile, we call
the plumber, open wide for the dental hygienist,
check each month, with tentative circlings,
our aging breasts. Somehow, each morning,
the coffee gets made. Somehow, each evening,
the crossing guard lifts fluorescent orange flag,
and a child and her father cross the glistening street.
"After Reading There Might Be an Infinite Number of Dimensions" by Martha Silano,
from The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception. © Saturnalia Books, 2011.
We do indeed live in a challenging society. These poems make me think about what life actually is here in America .....and to reconsider what life should be.
The Esquimos Have No Word For War
Trying to explain it to them
Leaves one feeling ridiculous and obscene
Their houses, like white bowls,
Sit on a prairie of ancient snowfalls
Caught beyond thaw or the swift changes
Of night and day.
They listen politely, and stride away
With spears and sleds and barking dogs
To hunt for food. The women wait
Chewing on skins or singing songs,
Knowing that they have hours to spend,
That the luck of the hunter is often late.
Later, by fires and boiling bones
In steaming kettles, they welcome me,
Far kin, pale brother,
To share what they have in a hungry time
In a difficult land. While I talk on
Of the southern kingdoms, cannon, armies,
Shifting alliances, airplanes, power,
They chew their bones, and smile at one another.
Mary Oliver
New and Selected Poems Volume One. Beacon Press, 1992
3 comments:
I love both poems. The Martha Silano one, for me, points out how superfluous and extraneous our lives are. The writer is going through this series of motions and is unfulfilled. And the reality is life is so delicate.
I love the imagery in the second one. I love that what is important is the waiting, sometimes with song, & the time together.
I like both of the poems, but I really like the first one. She beautifully captures the emotions of women of a certain age, who put on a brave face and do what needs to be done, day after day, in the face of an uncertain future.
Pam, your poems make me think of Mary Oliver.
OK, so now I am confused. Is the first poem a sarcastic, tongue in cheek commentary on how our lives are made up of inconsequential and trivial events or.... is she pointing out that all this "stuff," constantly bombarding us, may be more than we can be expected to handle and maitain sanity?
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