Between the Bones
Consider harmony and divergence, knowing
the other or not knowing the other fully,
a person might risk a moment of discovery—
how her hands versus your hands—explore
virgin territory until every puzzle-piece falls
into place—the strangeness of a sacred spring,
horses grazing in a close-by pasture, meadowlark
notes, and through a window gauzily screened
the scent of lilacs, mock orange, plum, peach,
apple—tasting the way the word love tickles
your tongue at a touch. Soft flesh might unfurl
a memory of pale days scouting the riverbank
fully intent—the way a raptor on the wing
glides at leisure, eyes focused on the horizon,
scurrying prey, or threadbare stars
newly-hatched in emerging dusk.
_______________
Dale Champlin
Review by Dave Mehler
This is a beautiful love poem, not only imagistically, conceptually and figuratively, but structurally as well. If marriage starts out in ignorance and general selfishness and self-love, it better end in movement toward selflessness or it will never stand the test of time. The poem has just the right balance of sensuousness and the erotic, and the pastoral, which is harder than it looks. Dale hits all of the five senses: visual, taste, smell, touch, and sound. The title Between the Bones brings me in mind of the scripture from Hebrews 12:4: For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. I love the way it ends, with a slight hint of forboding and potential threat (and appetite of the raptor), which I think gives the lie to anyone who might be tempted to unjustly accuse the poem of sentimentality, and then the final glory of the closing line and image:
…or threadbare stars
newly-hatched in emerging dusk.
Dusk suggests an aging couple whose love has abided. Taking us from the beginning, youth, Spring and virgin territory, to the end of the day to things (stars) which outlast?