The reliance on dramatic monologue is only one of many clues that Carver primarily writes fiction, not poetry. Other telltale signs include his frequent use of dialogue and his long, rambling lines. These fictional elements do not always create the greatest poems, and Carver never quite succeeds in applying his skills to poetry. Carver writes his best poems when he leaves fiction behind altogether, and he surrenders himself to his poetry. In these poems, Carver bares his soul, stripping away the protection of characters and dialogue.
Carver lets brief but beautiful moments of language and image sizzle on the page.
He takes up his other favorite subject, the turmoil of male-female relationships, and he focuses on a devastating moment in a crumbling marriage. Your eyes film. Even the flies are still. Surely we have diminished one another. For all his brutality and rawness, Carver has a tender side.