Bob Hicok is a little young to be writing a poem like "Mortal Shower," but a lot people over age 40 have worried out loud about aging, at least to friends. Some of us can even laugh at ourselves on the subject, at least some of the time.But how many can turn sagging into a love poem? How many of us can make thoughts zig and zag like a Grand Prix race car zooming around curves, but ending safely at a finish line, or purring comfortably in the garage.
I don't know if this is one of Hicok's best or most important poems, but it's easy to underestimate the power of humor.
Mortal shower by Bob Hicok : The Poetry Foundation [poem] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.
Sweet. I must have liked it, because I had a dream about the poet last night and I asked him to turn around and he did look good from the back.
ReplyDeleteYour second graph isn't too shabby, either.
Oooh, I love this poem!
ReplyDeleteI have read this poem 1000 times (er, I mean 10 times - slip of the decimal point there) - and I am starting to confuse myself.
ReplyDeleteFirst few readings, I read it as a love poem. Not to his butt, but to his wife - how she still loves him and his ass... she doesn't see the sag, hence he never did either until alone in a hotel in Pittsburgh. Now I have never been a pretty girl, but when my husband, my love, tells me I am beautiful and that I look like Ingrid Bergman, I feel beautiful. His eyes are often enough... until I look in the mirror. He lies.
"... and with her,
mirrors don’t scare me,
room service is a gas
because she’s alive, I’m a giant,
a tight-assed
titan because she’s alive
and says come home..."
But the last bit of his poem - is Hicok complaining of the duties/chores he suffers at the hand of someone who lies to him?