Two extremes from Carol Ann Duffy‘s The World’s Wife:
Mrs Darwin
7 April 1852
Went to the Zoo.
I said Him—
Something about that Chimpanzee over there reminds me of you.
And…
Pilate’s Wife
Firstly, his hands—a woman’s. Softer than mine,
with pearly nails, like shells from Galilee.
Indolent hands. Camp hands that clapped for grapes.
Their pale, mothy touch made me flinch. Pontius.I longed for Rome, home, someone else. When the Nazarene
entered Jerusalem, my maid and I crept out,
bored stiff, disguised, and joined the frenzied crowd.
I tripped, clutched the bridle of an ass, looked upand there he was. His face? Ugly. Talented.
He looked at me. I mean he looked at me. My God.
His eyes were eyes to die for. Then he was gone,
his rough men shouldering a pathway to the gates.The night before his trial, I dreamt of him.
His brown hands touched me. Then it hurt.
Then blood. I saw that each tough palm was skewered
by a nail. I woke up, sweating, sexual, terrified.Leave him alone. I sent a warning note, then quickly dressed.
When I arrived, the Nazarene was crowned with thorns.
The crowd was baying for Barabbas. Pilate saw me,
looked away, then carefully turned up his sleevesand slowly washed his useless, perfumed hands.
They seized the prophet then and dragged him out,
up to the Place of Skulls. My maid knows all the rest.
Was he God? Of course not. Pilate believed he was.
Duffy is a poet who can manufacture a bon-bon-ish bit of wit and then swerve into fresh, ferocious depths. I can’t think of a poet who can match her range. Her pyrotechnics can make her work seem slight, but at her frequent best she is delightfully scary, or scarily delightful.
Thanks for bringing this poet to my attention Joe. I requested this book of poetry from the library as well. <BR/><BR/>I just got Luljeta Lleshanaku’s book the other day – been plowing through it. I’m going to have so much to read soon.<BR/><BR/>Always good stuff.
I’ve been following for awhile, but had to dust off the old blogspot id to officially follow. I do enjoy reading your thoughts.
Oh! Mr J … you’re Joel! I just realized. I’ll be touring your blog soon. Thanks for becoming a "follower" of this one!
I was just trying to make the point that Duffy can toss off a funny, slight poem as well as a fierce, substantial ones. Hadn’t even noticed the thematic connection!<BR/><BR/>Thanks for dropping by with your "close reader" hat on….
I’ve been thinking about these poems since lunch. I originally interpreted your comment of "two extremes" to mean two opposites or contrast. But this isn’t the case as both seem to draw the conclusion of an absent god (from Jesus and creation anyways–in a traditional sense). I see them as two extremely different ways to aim towards a similar idea. Either way, I thought the second poem to be