Phone Ringing in a Dark House
The poet shares his work in any number of ways once it’s conceived, primarily from page to reader. But Rolly Kent shows us that his poems have always existed in our hearts and minds and that it is only necessary to discover them, hidden there, seemingly as memories. Back from a twenty-year hiatus, Kent is the author of two previous collections: The Wreck in Post Office Canyon and Spirit, Hurry.
Moonlight Sonata
Once they just stared from across the street.
Now nothing stops them, not even the new
medication. Which war is this? My sister
has lost track, but the soldiers keep coming,
slipping through the walls. Some lounge on sofas,
some open closets and drawers, inhaling her
favorite lovely things. A few stand by the bed
and watch her sleep, all of them deserters,
none of them willing to leave her. Each night
they promise they’ll return to the front
as soon as the recital is over: They listen
with my sister to the beautiful
woman in white as she plays Beethoven
in the front yard—a vision of elegance,
my sister says, so much like our mother.
But nobody respects the past anymore.
The statuette of Venus lies in pieces
in the hall where the men gather to climb
the stairs. Whatever a mother’s love was good for
is gone. Everything quakes in moonlight.
One child is spared. One is not.
Reviewed by
Matt Sutherland
Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The publisher of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the publisher for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.
