The Whacking Stick
A boy with a long stick whacks the air.
What demon does he strike?
A boy with a long stick whacks the air.
What demon does he strike?
In Camaraderie of the Marvelous, Dianna Henning immerses us in worlds of astonishing connections. These are poems where the marvelous occurs, when a “slivered wolf . . .” becomes a “heart’s centerpiece,” and where a summer river “spills salsa music.” In these poems, connections among people and animals and memories are all “reaching across . . .”…
Down from Bob Ovitt’s place, two sisters linger
at their clothesline to watch as the farmer’s two hundred
eighty-pound body is hoisted into a flatbed and then
driven in a scrawl of dust around the bend.
Henning has a very elegiac quality to her writing: death, crows, grief and longing. That probably could be said of most poetry, but in this case, there’s also a very subtle sense of self-ironizing awareness. For example, in “Jump-Off Joe Creek,” which examines the story behind the oddly named Oregon stream, Henning takes an inward turn: “but finally, / like Joe on the bridge, you must select / one life and hold it like flint underneath your tongue, / something made in the shape of an arrow.”