Another Old Bird Flies Across the River by K.R. Segriff

Another Old Bird Flies Across the River

by K.R. Segriff

Doris of the frozen roast hurled

at the son-of-a-bitch in the produce aisle

who talked shit about Gramps.

Doris of the palm-tree nails creeping

across her buried spine, as she recalls

the sensation of touching bone.

Doris of the chartreuse bedroom painted

a shade Gramps despised while he was off

in Verdum with god-knows-who.

Doris of the late August veranda, sizzling

her skin so dark all the old hens

whispered into their teacups.

Doris of the 1940s photograph, teeth crossed, posed

between Gramps and the mighty Saint Lawrence,

thinking, even then, of shoving him in.

Doris of the long drive home from the hospital.

The strawberry, honey, and juniper infused evening.

The lingering scent of gin and grief.

Now, Doris of the feet-first exit.

Doris of the torn heart valve.

Doris of the mile-wide, uneven smile.

Doris of the ambulance screaming past

the mighty Saint Lawrence.

Doris who whispered across the whitecaps

that Gramps better start swimming because, goddamnit,

she was coming in after him.

The Ile d'Orleans Bridge, Saint Lawrence River, Quebec.

This poem was originally published in the Greensboro Review, issue Number 11, Spring 2022.

I love a great list poem, and this poem certainly fits that form. It is also an anaphora, except for the 7th stanza, which begins with "Now" rather than "Doris" and indicates that the poem's subject has died.

And what a subject Doris is! We get such a clear picture of this woman simply by the small vignettes the poet has used here. And we get an inside look at her marriage to Gramps, which I do not think I would have liked to have been around. The first 5 stanzas are all balanced out by the 6th, in which the speaker puts us on "the long drive home from the hospital" with Doris.

The tercets become 3 one-line stanzas, then a two-line stanza. The poet ends by returning to a tercet. It goes back to the 5th stanza--swimming in the Saint Lawrence (also mentioned in the penultimate stanza, as the ambulance is driven near it)--as well as a metaphor for death. Doris is telling Gramps, already dead, that she is coming/dying. Is this meant lovingly or as another threat? A mix of both?

Doris is quite a character, and this poem does her--whether she was real, completely invented, or some of both--justice. The poem's form and content work together in a way that I love and is underutilized in contemporary poetry.

The poet, Kate Segriff is a poet, filmmaker, and artist in Toronto. You can find out more about her at her website, here. You can read other poems, as well as fiction, on their site, which is here.