The Vigil: A Poem in Four Voices
Gibson ( Signs ) enters a terrain more common to fiction with this book-length poem, a lyrical saga of contemporary family life in rural Connecticut. An alcoholic lies on his deathbed while his daughters, Sarah and Jennie, gather with their mother and Sarah's daughter for their annual ritual of firing Sarah's pottery. Working within these unusual but potent boundaries, not a word is wasted. Secret after secret is revealed: a brother's drowning in childhood was due to his sister's negligence; a pregnant teenager learns that her aunt is really her mother who gave birth to her when she was a teenager. The four women do not interact directly here, and there is no dialogue; rather, readers experience their vivid interior monologues that mirror each other. "Another cry-- / it's Brook, it's Brook hurt, / I run to him, our voices one voice, hurt," Sarah thinks, while in her sister's mind: "Her cry cleaves the air. I'm brushed by her breasts as she stumbles on the rug and hurries past." Contradiction and tension are created as each woman argues within herself. Readers quickly discern the emotional subtext expressed in each woman's breath: Jennie's prose poems indicate her flat acceptance of her lot. Gibson's impressive ability with line and meter contributes greatly to the volume's success.Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.