'Patter' by Douglas Kearney holds an obvious fetish of miscarriage, fatherhood, and the grief of body's failures. The obsessiveness and anxiety "to be daddy's to ascend, steady, into cruelty" - as the pregnancies fail, the narrator's relationship with his own body and his partner's body becomes a battleground and confusion: "I love your body / I hate it."
These pieces are often just as visual as they are text-based, ("woman/bed" "woman/blood") and it seems to mimic a type of children's book, full of word hunt games, self-nomination forms, reality tv, with loud HEE-HEE's. Darker forms such as The Miscarriage: A Minstrel Show appear, as a story "done red" means a story of lost life. Blood soaks the sheets, the baby clothes, the abjectness of miscarriage becomes honestly portrayed. The color red swims in and out of these poems, describing tongues and asses and genitals, while also describing death.
I think the word play and interchangeability of humor and sorrow could have come across too tongue-and-cheek or clever, but Kearney's display of this is masterful. Sexy foreplay and anxious yearning for fertility combine in 'It's Okay To Feel Overwhelmed' - "oh, baby" "it won't stop" "calm down" "stop." And then again in 'Gooo or Goooo or Gooo', - "the ooooo / baby is prayer wish." The phrase "oh baby" becomes a mating call of complicated desire.
The phrase "goo goo" hilariously references baby speech and also the collection of semen at the doctor's office. The scenes at the doctor morph into sexuality, as the doctor's lab coat is "panty-white", and "my dick a needle needle." The word play again, the word "pussy" points to the word "coward." Multiple definitions are screaming at once - "her body bled itself a body."
I am so curious about the motif of the bugs, and there are so many bug poems in this book - 'The Ants', 'The Fly', 'The Bees', 'The Ladybugs' ~ I'm not sure if I have a full interpretation of the insects quite yet, but there is definitely something so scurrying and frantic and itchy about these poems. Like something you want to keep swatting on your body, but you can never quite catch it.