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Back To Country With Pulitzer Analysis

Author: poem of Liam Rector Type: poem Views: 7

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I left here at eight

And returned at 75.

In between

I largely wasted America.

I married, had children,

Distinguished myself in a profession

Full of fools, becoming one myself,

As is the way

Of this (or, I suppose, of any other) world.

I missed

The Nobel but I did bring down

The Pulitzer. The weather,

The politics, the stars,

And my own small contribution

All lined up, and I got one.

So "Pulitzer" became my middle name

Before I came here, where no one seems

To care a whit about such things.

I failed at love.

That's where I truly fucked up.

I couldn't.

The women in this town

Are mostly severe, resentful

—The men bitter, disappointed.

A perfect place for my purposes.

I stay in a room

In the house of an old woman

Who doesn't want to have sex any more

And neither do I

So we do not

Trouble each other on that front,

Which is good.

I do like to drink.

I used to love to eat

But then I don't much

Give a shit

About any of that now.

The old woman sometimes says wistfully

God will soon be calling both of us

Back home, but as an agnostic

I don't believe that.

As an American,

I don't buy that.

I came here to retire from love,

To face my failure to love

As I attempted to face everything

Else before, and that

Is exactly what I am doing and doing

With the exactness I used to put in

To my work, for which I received the Pulitzer.

I hate a coward.

My son

Came here the other day and asked

Exactly when I might

Be coming back

And I sent him off without an answer.

The answer

Seems to be staying here,

Staying honestly here and coming to terms

With my greatest single failure.

My wife is dead. To me,

It seems I am left over

To eat a shit sandwich.

"Eat me," the world says,

now that I have lost my appetite.

We used to say "Eat me"

To each other in high school,

Another thing from which no one

Ever recovers. America likes to think

Every one can recover from every thing,

But about this,

Especially, America is wrong.

Submitted by Michael Schiavo


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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||

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This is one of my favorite poems by Liam Rector. I think its a an honest and concise with some of the best lines I've ever read. Sometimes poems are good because they are well written and intriging, nothing more, nothing less.

| Posted on 2009-09-25 | by a guest

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