Radiant Heat

[Tim J Brennan]

Evelyn burned down one afternoon—
she in her chaise lounge, she knew
about being black and hurt and holy
and drunk. She lay all day, every day.

The sun, her husband, her lover, her skin
begging for miniature explosions, 
a new disguise. Evelyn worshipped
the rays, talked to them in her sultry voice.

All she really wanted was someone
to tell her she was a fine woman, sober
or not, and she wanted to believe them.

[Amie]

I love love love your poems - I think this might be my favourite of all the ones I've read so far.

No nits with this, except the title (not mad keen on it, seems sterile compared to the intimacy of the poem itself). But I have no suggestions for alternatives.

[Dave]

This is one of those well- written pieces, well put together thoughly casually told and caring yet i can't tell you why i don't really believe a word of it. It has a kind of Hollywood romantic in which a wasted life appears sadly cool. Grammatically laid should be lay unless you are going for colloquial and the figurative burnt down just seems strange in line 1. Like Aime i find title way too distanced for the empathy that the poem exudes. As she says tim you write really well and with an interesting degree of variation

[Tim J Brennan]

I love love love your poems - I think this might be my favourite of all the ones I've read so far.

No nits with this, except the title (not mad keen on it, seems sterile compared to the intimacy of the poem itself). But I have no suggestions for alternatives.

Thanks for the nice words, Amie. I picked a title in less than 20 seconds after googling sun worship. Let me think about it. 

[Tim J Brennan]

This is one of those well- written pieces, well put together thoughly casually told and caring yet i can't tell you why i don't really believe a word of it. It has a kind of Hollywood romantic in which a wasted life appears sadly cool. Grammatically laid should be lay unless you are going for colloquial and the figurative burnt down just seems strange in line 1. Like Aime i find title way too distanced for the empathy that the poem exudes. As she says tim you write really well and with an interesting degree of variation

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received from anyone:  Always tell the truth. Then lie about it.

Evie Larson died of advanced skin cancer. She was the mom of a kid I used to hang around with back in the day. We played a lot of basketball in his driveway.  Evie used to lay out ALL THE TIME in the skimpiest bikini in the world. She was hot, but any babe in a bikini was kinda hot when I was 12, 13 years old, Dave.  Even a mom who always drank vodka, even at 11:00 am. Women like that were exciting as all hell, in a romantic Hollywood kind of way.

I will edit to Lay. Thank you. Thanks for all your thoughts...even the ones when you don't believe a word.  Good thing a poem has many of them.  Some of them gots to be true. 

Like I told Amie, titles are a dime a dozen. I'll think on it.   

[Dave]

Hi Tim
Maybe I gave the wrong impression. I believe the story - I also had a neighbour like this in Belfast who sunbathed everyday, when possible, it was Belfast after all, surrounded by a homemade suncatcher covered in silver foil - but some of the ideas in the poem, which shows the elegance and skill of succinctness, are tough for me to fit together or to make a coherent picture of. Perhaps the woman in question wasn't coherent. I get the poetic quality of 'burn down' and and yet it is a peculiar phrase for a woman, especially since the next line places her lying on a chaise longue. Somethng about the juxtaposition. If it is a figurative meaning, I can only imagine something in the direction of saintliness or a candle and can't quite figure her in that way.

I don't know why but there is something human and real in your description of her in your post and there is something just too neat in the poem. An episode of Denver Clan, perhaps.  Anyway these are just thoughts. It has nothing to do with the skill of the writing, which is considerable.
Dave
 

[Amie]

I see what you mean about the neatness, Dave. But for me it is far outweighed by the realness. This character is real enough for me to empathise with her, which doesn't happen that often in poems (Maugham has the same effect for me in prose. For all the formality of his writing, I am able to empathise with almost every character he ever created)

[Tracy Mitchell]

Mrs Robinson?  Yes and no.  Or rather, not quite, but suggestive.  For me, you humanized the woman, got inside the psyche.  
Nicely crafted character study.

T

[Tim J Brennan]

Mrs Robinson?  Yes and no.  Or rather, not quite, but suggestive.  For me, you humanized the woman, got inside the psyche.  
Nicely crafted character study.

T

Nothing so dramatic as Anne Bancroft, Tracy. Glad some things worked for you. 

[Tim J Brennan]

Dave: appreciate the response and your explanation but you have a bit of tunnel vision and aren't allowing for any other interpretations except your own (especially of "burned"). Phrases like "some of the ideas" are just too abstract for me to address b/c I don't know what they might be.  

My poetic needle often leads toward the literal sense of an idea or theme.  To me, Evie literary burned up in that chair. Not trying to be cute w/any other kind of figurative language (except maybe a touch of hyperbole) b/c she literally died from Carcinoma Cancer caused by too much bare skin exposure to the sun. The cancer "ignited" at some point.  She died in her 40's but I assume she died at a slow burn her entire life. Now maybe that is too "neat"...I personally have a problem w/that word because my level of neatness in a poem can't possibly measure up to yours (if I'm reading your comments correctly).  I just don't know what you mean by this word.  

I do read your comments and I do appreciate your comments. But I need specifics to become better.