All poems published in the Review are automatically eligible for the Editor’s Choice Award--there is no entry fee. Frequent Contributors and previous Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest winners are not eligible. The Editor chooses the poem published in the Review the previous year that “moved him the most.” The award includes a certificate and a modest honorarium if funds are available. Thanks to the generous support of those who participated in the Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest last year (our only fundraiser), we are pleased to be able to offer an honorarium of fifty dollars.
About the Poet: Christopher Hivner writes
from a small town in Pennsylvania surrounded by books and the echoes of
music. He has recently been
published in Five 2 One, In-flight
Literary Magazine, and Anti-Heroin
Chic. He has had five chapbooks
of poetry published, the newest When Science Collapses (Writing Knights
Press). Find out more about him a
www.chrishivner.com, friend him on Facebook by choosing “Christopher Hivner -
Author”, or follow him on Twitter @Your_screams.
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. As I
looked back over the poems by guest poets published in the Review last year, this one clearly stood out and definitely “moved
me the most.”
“The Island” made the finals for the
2016 Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest.
Contest Judge Carol Hamilton had this to say
about the poem: An excellent poem with lovely sound and
recurring images that tie the story of the poem together in a unique and
meaningful way.
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