And Her Soul Out Of Nothing by Olena Kalytiak Davis

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


The poems in Olena Kalytiak Davis‘s collection And Her Soul Out Of Nothing, which won the 1997 Brittingham Prize in Poetry, can be hard to pin down. They meander and circle around topics, poking at them from different directions. Mostly, the poems concern Davis’s interior life, questioning what makes the self, the soul, and how to exist in this world.

But everything here isn’t inward-looking. The imagery in this collection is fresh and vivid. And as heavy and serious as these topics are, Davis has wit, too. Here’s the opening of one of my favorites, Around the Edges of a Cold Cold Day: “Under the ice they’re dragging the river, / but I don’t mean for this to signify / some kind of casualty, some kind of loss.” Davis, living in Alaska, is actually thinking about a man whose body is thought to be under the ice, “his wife still sweeping / the river with the hook of her mind.”

There are many standouts in this collection, but amidst all the fragmented soul-searching, this sad, beautiful poem may be my favorite:

Postcard

Lately, I am capable only of small things.

Is it enough
to feel the heart swimming?

Jim is fine. Our first
garden is thick with spinach
and white radish. Strangely,
it is summer

but also winter and fall.

In response to your asking:
I fill the hours
then lick them shut.

Today, not a single word, but the birds
quietly nodding
as if someone had suggested
moving on.

What is that perfect thing
some one who once believed in god said?

Please don’t misunderstand:
We still suffer, but we are
happy.

I’ve only recently discovered this poet, but will definitely be reading more of her work in the future.