"I suppose some people think poetry’s job is consolation.

For example, we’ve been at war so far for most of this

century; poetry should find, or make, or remind us of

beauty beyond all that, especially since the news doesn’t,

or doesn’t want to, or can’t.

 

And I suppose others think poetry’s job is confrontation.

For example, we’ve been at war so far for most of this century,

but you’d hardly know it; poetry should lever us off

our complacency couches, should call us out for preferring

lovely ways to go on ignoring.

 

Let’s agree that poetry’s job is both, and quite a bit more.

Here’s a book that knows that. It’s not seeking or offering

consolation, and it’s not interested in confrontational posturing.

I’d call the job it’s doing - and doing impressively - reflection.

Reflection, as in holding up a mirror to facts.

Reflection, as in thinking vividly and long about sudden,

horrifying, altering, unalterable, forever-lasting, unexplainable

loss.

 

The power of these poems is that they don’t explain. They

present. What they present isn’t pretty, isn’t a jumping-off

place for symbolizing or epiphany. And you should absolutely

read them.

 

By read I mean experience. By them I mean truths about

war.

 

                                                            

 – Rob Carney, Professor of English at Utah Valley University, 

    author of three books and three chapbooks of poems, most 

    recently Story Problems (Somondoco Press 2011) and 

   Home Appraisals (Plan B Press, 2012).