E.E. Nobbs reviews
If We Could Speak Like Wolves
by Kim Moore
In the
pamphlet If We Could Speak Like Wolves
(Smith/Doorstep Books, 2012) most of Kim Moore's 20 poems are set in Cumbria
and nearby places. Some of the people we meet are (or were) actual people, such
as world-famous Graham Short in “The Master Engraver”. Often the speaker is an "I";
sometimes a lover is being addressed, as in the titular poem – where the
speaker poses hard questions about intimacy and roles:
… if a
mistake could be followed
by
instant retribution and end with you
rolling
over to expose the stubble and grace
of your
throat, if it could be forgotten
the
moment the wind changed…
Moore’s people
are in relationships, in communities; they holiday in the Lake District, go
picnicking, get picked up at pubs, and attend services where psychic artists dial
up long-dead grandmas while the congregation sings Abba songs.
“In Praise of Arguing” is an ode-rush of
adrenaline with the energy of a Beethoven overture. A couple are cohabitating; it’s probably
their first year. The action is fast and furious:
And the
vacuum cleaner flew
down the
stairs like a song
and the
hiking boots
launched
themselves
along the
landing.
I both
sigh and giggle every time I read it. And the twist at the end is “glorious”.
There's
the everyday mundane; there's murder and other tragedies - big and small
(people drown, moths immolate on lamps). There's wry humour, wolves and fairy
tales. And tall tales. Myths and mountain tops. Even the Titanic. There’s fog
and trains and boats and tides – always the tides. And sheep. And unusual
ways of getting to places
In only
20 poems (and none of them are long poems), Moore works her magic. Together they are like a hymn of praise for
the gift of being alive. And of being part of a whole. Of a community.
She's a
skilled teller of stories. Sometimes, the speaker takes on the role of bard, as
in the benedictive poem, “The Rabbit and the Moon” with its "Let me tell
you the story of a high, lonely place..."
What
stands out for me is the musicality of all these poems: the lines are
rhythmic, and the words dance, and echo off each other. They are
technically impressive.
I have at
least 15 favourite poems in this pamphlet: one of them is “Train Journey,
Barrow to Sheffield”. This poem is (at least partly) about a train trip. It has
seven verses, five lines per verse, all similar lengths - the poem looks like a
train. I like attention to shape. The speaker first tells us what she does NOT
like about the train, and her reasons are funny (ha/ha). In the fourth verse,
the speaker acknowledges: "still I love the train, its sheer
unstoppability,/ its relentless pressing on...".
Then
she's questioning: "if the sheep aren't rounded up//will they stand and
let the tide come in, because that's what sheep do, they don't save
themselves". And suddenly, she’s
relating details of a horrifying and tragic human event. We return to the
hoped-for safety of the train; yet in the last line of the poem, a
passenger is shouting: "I've got to find the sword." But I don’t want
to spoil the surprise; so I'll say no more.
If We
Could Speak Like Wolves is a joy to read and re-read.
E.E. Nobbs is a Canadian poet based in Prince Edward Island.
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