Oh, it's a fine poem, as all of Collins' poetry is, about a June day that he preserves in amber, a task that poets are exceptional at doing. But what caught my eye were the final lines:
But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.
Ha! Mr. Collins' has never experienced an Oklahoma summer morning. Out here, she's traded her small cup of light for a bucket of blazing flame.
Update: Commenter Suzannah points out that Mr. Collins has, in fact, just last month, been in Oklahoma for the Oklahoma Arts Institute. He also lives in Florida. No doubt his view of mornings has changed. Still, a lovely poem though, huh?
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Dear Pete:
ReplyDeleteYou're wrong about Mr. Collins never having experienced an Oklahoma summer morning. He was there in June at the Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute, where and when it was plenty hot.
Not that a hot Oklahoma morning would be so shocking to him; Mr. Collins now makes his home in Florida. One can argue that an Oklahoman has NOTHING to teach a Floridian about heat.
By the way, look for a poem called "Palermo." Mr. Collins reads it in public, but I don't think it's been published yet. It's about the crazy things heat does to a person.
Hi, Suzanah,
ReplyDeleteDang, I can't believe I missed a visit by Mr. Collins. He's a perfect choice for the Institute; the students would have learned much from him about clear, accessible writing.
So, that pretty much deflates my post's thesis. I'm glad to correct it and look forward to not only "Palermo" but maybe a poem about Mr. Collins' visit.
You were kind to drop by and comment. Thanks for doing so.
Pete