Billy Collins: "'How do I make my own life
interesting
and compelling to strangers?'
is a question
that should face every autobiographical
poet.
Carol Lem has managed to find an answer
which is
made up of her sharp powers of observation
and her awareness of the poetic traditions
that
inform her poems."
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Shadow of the Plum
- In the morning my father
- would call in his list of horses
- along with restaurant orders,
- put on a clean white shirt, and
- take his few deliberate steps
- to the dresser on which he placed
- like a surgeon - comb, brush,
- key chain, diamond ring, the
- Hamilton watch from his sister.
- At the sink, washing rice
- my mother would listen
- to race results before he came
- home from the track, and know
- to turn away as he wandered
- into his room to sit in the dark.
- She would not tell him
- of her small winnings stashed
- in drawers among the Chinese gold
- and jade jewelry he substituted
- for the kiss and the embrace.
- Nor would she tell him
- about the dresses and makeup
- she bought to play weekend hostess
- at Lem's Cafe. He would not know
- about her flirting with the occasional
- actor cruising Little Tokyo, while he
- stayed in the kitchen yelling at the staff,
- more comfortable on an orange crate
- with his Lucky Strikes than bantering
- with Keye Luke over a starched
- pink tablecloth.
- He would not know about the man
- she used to dance with until
- three o'clock in the morning,
- the one she really loved all those years
- ago but was gone by first light.
- And she'd wake again by the railroad
- tracks in Chinatown until her future
- husband crossed her dream.
- He looked sharp with his fedora
- and leg propped on the running board
- of his new Ford. And she, one of
- D.W. Griffith's Broken Blossoms,
- saw her way out.
- Who could say then
- it would not be a trail of flowers
- but stale smoke, the crash of poker chips
- and mahjong tiles, a child
- picking up losing tickets at Santa Anita,
- Hollywood Park, Del Mar, or waiting
- for them in Vegas lobbies?
- I would learn silence early
- under the backyard tree
- naming each fallen plum
- for something not said, something
- desired. I would paint landscapes
- with paths leading off to dark shadows
- while listening to them bicker
- over light bulbs and soup brands.
- At night, they retreated to their rooms
- to count the day's receipts
- or watch Tyrone Power make love
- to Alice Faye.
- When the stars lit the sky
- I went outside to look for patterns
- and saw how small the house was,
- how quiet, in this vast stillness.
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