Poem of the Day: “The Islands” by Christopher Hivner

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “The Islands” by Christopher Hivner.  Mr. Hivner writes from a small town in Pennsylvania surrounded by books and the echoes of music. He has recently been published in Saudade, Nazar Look, and Syzygy Poetry Journal. A chapbook of poems, The Silence Brushes My Cheek Like Glass, was published by Scars Publications, and another, Adrift on a Cosmic Sea, was published by Kind of a Hurricane Press.

The Islands

Christopher Hivner

Chicken, flat and flavorless,

lying on the plate

like bolus in his throat,

the china in his hands,

the one pattern

he had hated,

the pattern she bought,

his opinion in the wind again,

eaten by flies

like excrement.

He stood over the sink

staring into the backyard,

watching the avatars

swim in the pool,

plant trees together,

make love on the deck

under the stars,

waving to him

from the original days,

in isolation

and unreachable,

sealed off like

an exhibit in a museum,

mocking him

from their world in the past.

The tide came in,

the tide went out,

his shoes and socks

soaked and wrapped in seaweed.

The sand shifted under him,

but he held his place.

She kept the dining room light off

so not to see the empty chair,

kept her head down

to stay blind,

tracing her fork around the flowers

on the plate

that she loved,

the pattern her mother had found

and drank with her eyes

like single malt scotch,

the pattern that made her

feel warm

and had made him

sigh with disgust

a week before the wedding,

seven days before

the rest of their lives

and she was less important

than a dinner plate.

Her finger traced

the edge of the china,

ignoring her dinner

like a finicky child,

imagining it was his shoulder

and he was on top of her,

inside of her,

a garden blooming

between them

and neither one cared.

She looked across the water

to the kitchen

for a glimpse of him,

the waves battering the dining table,

the water cold

against her bare feet,

foam slipping between her toes

and pieces of shell

lying against her skin.

From the mountain

on his island

he searched for her,

listening for the waves

to carry her voice,

but the water brought only

brine and mist.

He leaned against the sink

waiting to be led,

slapped, pushed,

a decision to be made for him

so he would go on,

pull his feet from the sand

and take a step.

The ghosts were in the house now,

walking around him

like he wasn’t there,

making dinner,

putting away groceries,

sneaking a kiss on the neck.

High tide lifted the water

over his head,

drowning out his scream

for them to stop.

She collected the shells

as if they were

his kisses,

scattering them on the table,

rubbing off the sand,

pressing them to her lips

to taste the salt.

The water rose to her waist

and she floated,

allowing the current

to take her,

leaving behind her mother’s plates

and the pieces of him,

letting the ocean

make her decision.

In the distance,

she thought she saw him

and tried to cry out,

but it was too far

and the waves too high.

Poet’s Notes: I wrote “The Islands” several years ago when I was experimenting with different ways of inspiring myself to write a poem. My method at this time was to keep a notebook of titles, then when I wanted to write, pick out a title and see where it took me. I remember this poem as one where the first draft flowed out easily, not becoming a headache until the re-writes. This was mainly because I wanted it to emote a palpable reaction, so it took a while to get the word choices right.

When I thought about the title, “The Islands,” the picture of a married couple being physically close but emotionally separated came to mind quickly. I have a fascination with the ocean, so I knew I wanted to bind them together with water and sand imagery. I used my own divorce as a basis for the emotions behind the poem but created characters in my head as the actual couple, including a back-story for why their relationship was falling apart.

Editor’s Notes:  The employment of the ocean conceit here creates a flowing fantasy mood.  The metaphors for love and love lost are exquisite.  The conceit of the china is also artfully employed.  This poem made the finals for the 2016 Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest.