The poems of fathers and daughters we read this morning held
a sense of warmth and caring—a favorite line by Howard Nemerov says, “May great
kindness come of it in the end.”
In Dan Masterson’s poem we see a father preparing his child
(maybe nine or ten)for what will come, strong images of things heard and seen.
We puzzled over the last two stanzas, and conclude that the pronouns they and them refer to the rainbows, the term the little girl uses to
describe the halos of light she sees around objects, a sign that things are
getting worse. The parents had meant to explain this in advance. But they would
be there nonetheless. “She wonders if we can see them (that is, the way she sees them)…and we say/we do.”
Note the power of the two lines with just two words: “And
sit” in the second stanza and “we do.” What is most poignant is not just the
fact but the process of losing vision.
And Emma was right—it is the kitchen lamp, not camp.
It is possible the child suffered from retinitis pigmentosa, an inexorable disease over a long period of
time.
We meet a different kind of loving and likeable family in
“Fish Fry Daughter.” Here “the double knot of father and daughter” includes
“haddock-scented hands.” Even the sub-plots of who said what to whom and why
have a cheerful tone. The wise daughter knows that a father has many
obligations.
We also felt warmth and kindness in the poems of two other
wise daughters, Cynthia and Kathy. Memory is often the beginning of a poem, but
we saw here how care in selecting and arranging the details is what makes
memory into poetry.
Next week we will continue to observe sensory perception in
Elizabeth Macklin’s “Three Views.” I suggested the views are of the same person.
You may read it differently—we’ll discuss next week.
Links:
Articles about Dan Masterson
More poems by Dan Masterson
More poems by Sara
Ries
:
Articles about Sara
Ries
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