Poem for a Sunday Evening
ByThe Bridge
In his travels he comes to a bridge made entirely of bones.
Before crossing he writes a letter to his mother: Dear mother,
guess what? the ape accidentally bit off one of his hands while
eating a banana. Just now I am at the foot of a bone bridge. I
shall be crossing it shortly. I don’t know if I shall find hills and
valleys made of flesh on the other side, or simply constant
night, villages of sleep. The ape is scolding me for not teaching
him better. I am letting him wear my pith helmet for
consolation. The bridge looks like one of those skeletal
reconstructions of a huge dinosaur one sees in a museum. The
ape is looking at the stump of his wrist and scolding me again.
I offer him another banana and he gets very furious, as though
I’d insulted him. Tomorrow we cross the bridge. I’ll write to
you from the other side if I can; if not, look for a sign . . .
3 Comments
August 1st, 2010 at 9:09 pm
Umm… Shad, you wanna’ take a crack at explicating this thing?
I liked it but I’m afraid to think about it as analysis of the work might be too psychologically revelatory for me to handle.
Ivy
P.S. Keep doing these! You are expanding my literary horizon in a most wonderful way.
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August 3rd, 2010 at 10:08 am
Generally I think Edson’s work operates in an area that eschews “explication” or at least in any traditional sense of the word…I would say his poems, and this one in particular especially so, are about– if they can be said to be “about” anything– the very human act of imagination.
The “point” of the poem is created by the reader in his engagement with it. I would say his poems also are an “investigation” of the act story-telling, and that his work often draws on, or is structured like, folktales and the like…
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August 3rd, 2010 at 3:50 pm
Cool.
Just between you and me…
I found the poem scary in an un-scary way. You know, very familiar but understanding that it is quite strange. Like in a dream where the strangeness is taken for granted and no fear or unease is felt and only later when awake taking full account of the subtle threat and one’s comfort with the threat.
As I said, this is all just between you and me; don’t tell anyone.
Ivy
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