It's still poetry month

And you're stuck with this until May, I'm afraid.

Mary Dalton is a contemporary poet from Atlantic Canada whose book Red Ledger I discovered thanks to a review in The Believer magazine. Much of the work in the second half is political (and readers from Atlantic Canada--in a way I think you'd appreciate); the first half is mostly personal. Since I'm not from Atlantic Canada, while I enjoyed the second half I didn't have the same visceral reaction to it as I did to the first.

For instance, this:

Stray Cats

You've noticed how stray cats get that way--
the wary turning of the head, the
low growling over a surprise gift of fish,
the quick hiss and retreat at the proffered pat.

You put it down to accumulations of
kicks, brooms, boots, being chivvied
from yard to yard, sidewalk to fence to tree--
legacies of ships' cats and Christian tradition
(plus--it must be said--a bit of pissing in the dahlias).

Still, knowing the symptoms is no defense,
as you watch yourself growing forty and difficult,
snapping at gentleman callers,
cringing, suspicious, ready for the boot.

Or this:

July

Dragged on in a stew of heat--
that bird hung around the whole muggy month,
shrilled like an old telephone.
It bothered me so:
it wasn't you calling.

Now, this was a violation of copyright for a poet who is still very much alive and eager I'm sure to be paid for her work: so make me feel better about it, Dear Readers, and one or two of you pick up a copy. It's lovely and very accessible--not the kind of poetry that makes people feel stupid for not understanding the symbols or references--but there's plenty of hidden treasure for people who like digging.

Posted by Andrea at April 17, 2008 8:17 AM under

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