THE POEM & Dr. Josh McKinney's Comments on my poem "THE FIRE THIS TIME" Jill

[jill stockinger]

Dear Jill,

Fun workshop last night. Here are my comments on your poem:

“The Fire This Time”

Dear Jill,

This is a weird one—in a good way. It walks the tightrope of the plausible/implausible, and that keeps a nice tension going throughout.

 

These characters seem to know one another, but not well. It doesn't seem to be a first date, but an early one. He must know Sylvia (clever what you've done with the name here) well enough to know that they don’t have a lot in common.

Why else would he assume that she is asking a question about something he doesn't care about? He seems to be engulfed in a physical attraction only. Indeed, this poem seems to be an investigation into a certain kind of attraction. Your

metaphors are subtle, but not so subtle as to be missed: The name Sylvia is associated with forests, Sylvia is “hot,” she fumes, etc. I see this entire poem as a meditation on relationships. There is a double meaning to much of the dialogue. 

When Sylvia says, “I think it’s probably more a question of timing and the state of the tree, / and what’s around it,” she is really speaking of a relationship. And when the speaker responds, “You could not be more right!” he is doing what 

many men do (I assume) when they want to get to the next base in a relationship: he tells her what he thinks she wants to hear.

 

It’s interesting that the speaker’s car has burned up. That’s a surreal leap that suggests that the prose poem workshop is having some residual effects (I like it). But his trip back to his car—and then back to Sylvia—occurs quite quickly. I wonder 

if any of your peers will get lost there.

 

Because your metaphor seemed quite apparent to me, I wonder if you overdo it in the final stanza. By having the speaker muse upon the relationship (“Was this a ‘subtle signal’ the relationship is over?”), you strike me as saying, “Get it, Reader!” 

In other words, there’s nothing subtle about your signal. I urge you to tone that down a bit. It’s okay for him to muse, to even have an epiphany, and I like the last line a lot. But trust your metaphor and trust your readers. Don’t cater to the reader 

who would miss your metaphor; that would be lowering the bar too much.

 

I found this piece funny. The pleasure and the humor comes from realizing the primary metaphor and then feeling a kind of dramatic irony as the speaker related his tale, apparently unaware of what is really going on. He gets dumped, and he ends

up feeling lucky. He’s too superficial to even realize he’s been “burned.”

 

Best,

 

Josh

 

My poem: (AND YES, I PLAN to REMOVE THE "offending line,": Was this a “subtle signal” the relationship/ is over? I decide I’d better take this as a sign."

is over? I decide I’d better take this as a sign.)

 

I’m tense; Sylvia is late again.

We meet at the trailhead in a park

famous for its trees. Ambling down

the shaded path, I’m starting to relax

when Sylvia says, “Here’s a hypothetical

for you.” I say, “Go on.” I try to look

interested, though I expect it’ll be

something I won’t care about.

Doesn’t matter, she’s really hot.

Sylvia asks, “If there’s a burning spruce,

should it be extinguished or permitted

to burn?” “When a tree needs a permit

to live or die in a forest, I don’t belong here,”

I tell her, feeling clever. This answer

exasperates her. She cries out,

“Why do you turn everything into a joke?

You never take me seriously.”

 

If I took everything she said seriously,

I think, I’d be crushed by the weight.

She stands there fuming; I make up

an excuse about needing to leave early

and hightail it back to where I parked.

My car has been immolated by a burning

spruce! Firemen are arriving while I run

back to Sylvia, yelling, “There’s a fire!

We've got to go! Where’s your car?”

We jog to her car parked across the road,

out of the fire’s path, and make a swift

getaway. In the car, I riposte, “About your

question: burning spruces should not be

allowed to burn.” She smiles sweetly

and says, “I think it’s probably more

a question of timing, the state of the tree,

and what’s around it.” And I tell her,

fervently, “You could not be more right!”

 

She asks where’s my car; I evade this with,

“I’m having some minor car trouble.” When

she asks, “What kind of trouble?” I reply,

“I need to replace some parts.” She nods

like she understands. I don’t inform her

it’s a case of needing to replace all the parts.

I insist, “I’ll deal with it tomorrow; I’m just

glad we're safe.” Why don’t I tell her the truth?

But I don’t want to! I feel like such a loser!

We go home to her clean, spacious house,

eat leftover Chinese takeout, and she declares,

“I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. Alone.”

I act like I understand. She shoos me out;

I call Lyft and get a ride home.

 

While I’m perfunctorily brushing my teeth

in my small, messy apartment, it hits me.

Why did she mention a burning spruce?

Did she set the tree on fire, knowing

it would fall on my car? Did she pay some

goon to make sure my car burned up?

Was this a “subtle signal” the relationship

is over? I decide I’d better take this as a sign.

I call Sylvia the next day and say I need

a break from all relationships, that there’s

a lot I need to think about. She agrees,

points out I need to grow up, tells me

not to call again, and ends the call.

So I wonder, Is she crazy? Did I

just have a lucky escape? Am I being

paranoid? Maybe the fire was entirely

accidental! But I feel happy

I wasn't in the car when it burned.