Waking on the Moon
Alarie Tennille
Paperback
(Kelsay Books, April 12, 2017)
If you follow Alarie Tennille’s work, you may think you know what to expect in this, her second book. Think again. In Waking on the Moon, you’ll find her trademark ekphrastic poems along with poems of family, loss, and ordinary days. But there’s a more fully developed power and sureness that mark this collection, an expanded sense of mystery and foreboding (“Silence...rattles/windows, presses/an ear to the door”). Tennille strips away veneers, shows us “disaster poking through.” Reassuringly, however, whimsy also abides: Visiting Paris, she despairs of getting it “on paper” but decides “Paris is poetry/without any help from me.” Jo McDougall, author of The Undiscovered Room Alarie Tennille’s poems ache with the tension of an ironic tenderness. Peopled with characters of great range, they can be as slick as Death in the ballroom who in asking a young girl to dance “promised he’d never leave,” or as gentle as a paratrooper trying to humanize World War II to a favorite daughter, adding “a derby to his drab uniform.” Waking on the Moon leaves footprints on a lunar surface, reminding us of a bygone sublimity we’ve all but forgotten. Al Ortolani, author of Painted Birds Don’t Fly Alarie Tennille has a good eye. Finely tuned images and ekphrastic poems abound in this collection. She follows Edvard Munch to personify Melancholy. Robert Rauschenberg inspires her to muse on the interconnectedness of life. She speaks in the voices of birds, imagines the moon, inhabits memory. Her straightforward poems lead us to experience and explore the sorrows and exaltations of existence, to understand this world “doesn’t feel like home, but always will be.” Ruth Bavetta, author of Fugitive Pigments and Flour, Water, Salt