Late Night with Fog and Horses
They were in the living room. Saying their
goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ears.
They’d been through a lot together, but now
they couldn’t go another step. Besides, for him
there was someone else. Tears were falling
when a horse stepped out of the fog
into the front yard. Then another, and
another. She went outside and said,
“Where did you come from, you sweet horses?”
and moved in amongst them, weeping,
touching their flanks. The horses began
to graze in the front yard.
He made two calls: one call went straight
to he sheriff – “someone’s horses are out.”
But there was that other call, too.
Then he joined his wife in the front
yard, where they talked and murmured
to the horses together. (Whatever was
happening now was happening in another time.)
Horses cropped the grass in the yard
that night. A red emergency light
flashed as a sedan crept in out of fog.
Voices carried out of the fog.
At the end of that long night,
when they finally put their arms around
each other, their embrace was full of
passion and memory. Each recalled
the other’s youth. Now something had ended,
something else rushing in to take its place.
Came the moment of leave-taking itself.
“Goodbye, go on,” she said.
And then pulling away.
Much later,
he remembered making a disastrous phone call.
One that had hung on and hung on,
a malediction. It’s boiled down
to that. The rest of his life.
Malediction.
Raymond Carver
Jennifer
You know, when you post a poem, whether you wrote it or not, people assume there’s some sort of connection between you and the poem. When the poem is as … well, as evocative yet cryptic as this … well, it just leaves those of us who haven’t heard from you (except tiny bits on the blog) pretty curious about what’s going on.
adam
“Hennie Bo Jennie put her rake down” was eloquently poetic (god, can that really only have been last July … ?). If analogous, this would be more like obtuse to evasive. Though it’s a heckuva poem, as Carver is wont to write. I’m taking it as a product of time to read and ignoring other inferences.
Jennifer
Time to read, but apparently not time to write. Go figure.
michael
Check the posting time. I’m too busy during the day and too tired at night to do much of anything but talk to Jeff.
adam
The posting time, coupled with the excerpted title, is indeed what gave us pause … But thanks for a moving poem, and thanks for all the effort. Run as silent and as deep as you need … We’ll be here.
Jennifer
Adam, you covered all my mental responses, and more nicely.
michael
I think the poem is about a failed relationship. Bittersweet. They know they can’t live together and while acknowledging that loss, they’re able to see what was good: “She went outside and said, ‘Where did you come from, you sweet horses?’ and moved in amongst them, weeping,…” “Then he joined his wife in the front yard, where they talked and murmured to the horses together.” Seeing the good makes pulling apart more difficult. “At the end of that long night,when they finally put their arms around each other, their embrace was full of passion and memory.” “Much later, he remembered making a disastrous phone call. One that had hung on and hung on, a malediction.” And I think he believes his life has been cursed. He’s not calling down a curse on her; he feels he’s the reason the relationship can’t survive.