Laurie Smith's unique mixture of lyrical narratives conjures up the stories associated with poison, a life—threatening fact that draws endless fascination in our imagination. Her poems vary from stray dogs falling victim to carelessness, to the reality of pollution destroying the planet, to intimate decisions made in the bunker on the last days of the Third Reich when the wife of Joseph Goebbles poisons her own children. The poems are tough, cranky, raw, cynical, and hard—edged. It is part dark humour, part history, part documentary in that it replays the unsettling tales regarding poison. Hers is a poetry that disturbs and asks questions.
In Suck & Spit, Laurie Smith (who, full disclosure, is my mother-in-law) entices her reader into consuming or exposing themselves to the darker depths that lurk beneath her words, or, as on the cover, beyond the showy display of blooms to the snake.
Her poems toy with seductive levity. There are fruits and cleavage and selected expletives.
There is also melancholy. In “i thought this was eden,” Smith observes that “gardening is busywork, a distraction, / a justification for something one calls solitude when / the ugly reality is loneliness.”
The collection works best when she explores the darker, unintentional poison beyond what we ingest—the poison we as humans create with our own action or inaction. As she explores literal poisons with more and more presence—neighbourhood kittens die from drinking antifreeze and she goes into the mind of a person deliberately lacing pet treats with warfarin—the poison of human nature and our inability to escape it comes to the fore.
She finds hope through the development of better pill bottle lids in “childproof” and through her readiness to “suck & spit” in the face of a wildly improbably snake bite in the titular poem. But poison is everywhere—in our gardens, in our neighbourhoods, in our water, in ourselves.
Pervasive poisons mean responsibility—toward pets, wildlife, and our fellow man, which is the altruistic message beneath the darkness, rashes, and humour in Smith’s poison poems. But she also sees failure in that responsibility. In her series of meditations on Earth Hour, she describes her fish looking out at her from their tank:
“they gather at their glass wall like moths intrigued, bewildered by this new luminescence their black eyes and borp, borp, borping mouths quietly asking if I have an explanation.”
Her exploration of poison is an attempt to explain the how and why of human nature. Why do we press forward with choices that hurt us? That hurt others? She jokes near the end that “still, there are some things / [she] will not do” but in her poems, what we won’t do (like fix the water problem in “Flint”) is the worst poison of all.
Rather entertaining which is always a delight. The subject matter is interesting. Much of the material speaks to images and scenarios close to home, easily relatable, dealing with toxic materials, plants, poisons, reactions and allergies to substances. The poet's fictional, and creative non-fiction poems are arresting, imaginative and history based. She has put her self in the shoes of her narrators and characters. Poems that stood out include: herb gardening; orbiting my coffee mug; Ingredients; properties of cinnamon; bella donna @ 4 am; chocolate toxicity; The Reich; suck and spit.