What the Living Do
Marie Howe
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil
probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty
dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven't called.
This is the everyday we
spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep headstrong blue, and the sunlight
pours through
the open living room windows because the heat's on too high in here,
and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street
the bag breaking,
I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying
along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my
wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush:
This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called
that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter
to pass.
We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss -- we want more and more
and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in
the window glass, say,
the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a
cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm
speechless:
I am living, I remember you.
In the poem What the Living Do, by Marie Howe, the speaker describes a person who has lost someone close, in particular, Johnny.
The reader can see throughout the poem that the speaker feels confused, even when it comes to everyday chores, as seen in the poem when the speaker mentions that “the dishes have piled up” and “waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called.”
We believe this poem reflects the emptiness that one can feel when they have lost the ability to actually communicate to one we have loved, and we can draw a parallel between the speaker in this poem and many of the women at CFL, who at some point have had to leave their everyday, ordinary lives. Although in this poem we can conclude from the last line that Johnny has died, and although that is not the case with the women we have met from CFL, we can note the similar perspectives within the idea of a crumbling relationship.
