I’ve been reading this book of poems again. It’s amazing to me how differently we read poetry after a few weeks, months, or years. It’s the best argument I could ever make for purchasing poetry books: we pick up more experiences and our perspective changes minutely such that each time we come to a poem – to any work of art – it is new and different because we are changed (hopefully evolved) by the intervening time and experience.
Diane Lockward’s poetry ages very well. Like wine. Only better, because wine eventually reaches its height and begins a slow, downhill slide toward becoming vinegar. Lockward’s poems may be a bit acidic up front, but they always settle on the discerning palate. And her poetry covers a range much like any good wine tasting: several varietals with a plethora of nuances.
Perhaps at another time I’ll write a full review of her in the extended metaphor, pairing each of her poems with a particularly well-suited wine. Meantime, I recommend Sauvignon Blanc with “Meditation in the Park” and a nice Rioja with “Reconstruction”.