[John Riley]

Temporary Health

My blood begs my heart to pump
while sludging a watery passage.
My lungs hold back, grow weary,
leave me holding the closet table
with fingers turning white on wood.

Maybe if there were more worlds
and milk and honey did not clog streams
and one squirrel chasing another
was a joy to bring a bright smile
not a struggle for minuscule food
I could set my bloodless fingers free,
not worry my panic may bring fire
to turn to sharp ice and fall down,
not sleep with a sword inside me.

[Ann Drysdale]

I'm wondering why you split this into stanzas, John, especially as the second break seems arbitrary and spoils the flow.

When these occasions ambush us, are they not essentially moments, entire of themselves, which would call for an uninterrupted re-creation?

[Jim Moonan]

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This excruciatingly good. That is to say, both keenly attuned to the way the body fails us and how the N realizes that he knows too much to be appeased by nature's imagery vs. brutality, and then ties the two together to be reflective of each other. It does it with stubborn unsentimental thinking and it's excruciatingly beautiful. That's probably not the way you intend it, but that's what I feel it is saying.

I agree with Annie to an extent about the immediacy of the moment and how the stanzas break that flow. I do think there is reason to break this in two, but not three stanzas.

The title "Temporary Health" implies a respite from the acute health issues that plagued the N. My only thought is that "health" is a fluctuating thing that can be good, bad or anywhere in between. So I wonder about the title a bit...

I love the line "Maybe if there were more worlds".


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[John Riley]

Ann, it’s usually suggested that I break up poems instead of using long stanzas. I understand what you say and probably agree. I need to think about it. Thanks.

Jim, thank you. I have doubts about it. Your input helps. I hope other people tell me what they think. I am pleased you like it.

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

I struggle to find an acceptable metrical pattern in this John but this is rendered into a minor quibble against the power of this poem. It transcends the dictates of the forum.

It is authenticity writ large.

Thank you.

[Andrew Frisardi]

This is vivid picture of pain, whether physical or emotional. It hits home. It’s not metrically regular but the cadences and lineage work well. It is accentual-esque, three to four beats per line.

One thing I don’t get: For the metaphors in S2, wouldn’t “and milk and honey were clogging streams” make more sense (be a closer parallel to “more worlds”) than “and milk and honey did not clog streams”? The point of “more worlds” and the squirrel image seems to be, “If things were better, not so painful and difficult,” so milk and honey (joy and well-being) would be other similar positives, right? I’m just not understanding your phrasing there.

I do like the poem, though.

[Ann Drysdale]

I took the milk and honey to be fat and sugar, dietary pleasures that now clog the (blood)stream.

I like the title. The moment frozen in the poem is that of a sudden, crippling illhealth that hammers home the realisation that health (in the positive sense) is temporary.

Going back to the stanza breaks, I've decided that the first one is important. The first few lines recreate the actual moment - the "uh-oh", the "is this it?" of the situation. The rest of the poem is the return to what now passes for normal, the wish, the regret, the resentment. And yes, self-pity. The acceptance that this is something that must be lived-with until it is died-of.

The second stanza break ruins that slide back as the breath returns, the palpitations subside, the back straightens and the grip relaxes.

I like that the line count is odd. Five for the acute, nine for the chronic. This is how it goes, is it not?

[Andrew Frisardi]

Originally Posted by Ann Drysdale

I took the milk and honey to be fat and sugar, dietary pleasures that now clog the (blood)stream.

That meaning would fit the context. For me, a problem with the phrase as it stands in this poem is that it is famously positive, whether in the biblical setting or not.

[Ann Drysdale]

Positive, Andrew, as long as it remains a perceived possibility.

It is the loss of that notional aspiration that compounds the hopelessness of the poet's situation. For him, there is no "land of milk and honey", not any more.

[Andrew Frisardi]

Yes, Ann, I am starting to see it. Thank you.