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From section 1, Infancy, of Saltian
Where are you?
By Alice Shapiro
My friend has a baby. I’m recording
all the noises he makes so later I can ask
him what he meant.
–Stephen Alexander Wright, American comedian
Where are you
in twilight just between
birth and awareness of earthbound objects?
Are you focused on your heartbeat
and bones that grow by increments
and hunger pangs and wetness
or does your mind stay mystical
holding on to vapors in a spirit realm
where love and soul are one?
In curious times dreams were vivid.
I wondered where one goes at sleep
the flesh inert, the mind alert
traveling far beyond a solid field
yet recognizing furniture and trees
absent time, outside space
afloat in substanceless pursuit
like a napping dog twitches
to catch an imaginary enemy, cat.
Is that you, child, flound’ring round the ether
waiting to be waked
to feel the touch of mother’s breast
to see sun, moon, seasons turn
hear brother’s laughter
while split off from sense?
This is more than Heaven. It is our gift to descend.
Was Christ’s sacrifice to become as us
like your transitioned, dancing form–
linked to spirit, not fully manifest?
Critique
By Lynne Thompson
It’s a daunting task to be asked to comment on a single poem when you don’t have the entire manuscript available to determine how the poems work together. Nevertheless, I press on.
As I read and re-read “Where are you,” I kept returning to the line “In curious times, dreams were vivid.” It struck me that the line would be a knockout entry into the poem and arguably a more mysterious (read: intriguing) way into the poem without giving away too much of its meat, particularly in light of the epigraph Alice selected.
Of course, once I moved that compelling line to the beginning of the poem, I started playing around with all of the stanzas and the order in which they appear. The question, to my mind, is what line is going to pull me through to the next line and then, on to the next poem. The task put me in mind of Stephen Dobyn’s collections of essays, Best Words, Best Order, and, in particular, his statement “[n]ot only do we read by anticipating what’s coming next, we read through the lens of what we have read.” Of course, the thrill of that anticipation is best fulfilled when we are met with a surprise. It was this tactic that lead me to rearrange the lines in “Where are you” and to make small tweaks in syntax and to delete lines that seemed less surprising, seemed more telling, not showing.
Where are you?
By Alice Shapiro
My friend has a baby. I’m recording
all the noises he makes so later I can ask
him what he meant.
–Stephen Alexander Wright, American comedian
In curious times dreams were vivid.
Where are you in twilight just between
birth and awareness
of the flesh inert, the mind alert
traveling far beyond a solid field–
recognizing furniture and trees
absent time, outside space
afloat in substanceless pursuit
like a napping dog twitching
to catch his imaginary enemy, cat.
Is that you, child, flound’ring round the ether
waiting to be waked
to see sun, moon, and seasons turn,
hear brother’s laughter
while split off from sense?
Are you focused on your heartbeat
and bones that grow by increments
and hunger pangs and wetness
or does your mind stay mystical
holding onto vapors in a spirit realm
where love and soul are one?
This is more than Heaven. It is our gift to descend.
#####
Lynne Thompson won the Perugia Press Book Prize for her first full-length collection of poems, Beg No Pardon, which was also awarded the Great Lakes Colleges Association New Writers Award. Thompson also coauthored 2 poetry chapbooks: We Arrive By Accumulation and Through a Window. Her work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies including Sou’wester, Indiana Review, Spillway, Ploughshares, and New Poets of the American West. A 2010 recipient of a fellowship from the SLS Summer Literary Seminars, she is the director of employee and labor relations at the University of California, Los Angeles.
