RECIPE FOR GARUM

A ghost in a canal lock and a post-storm family reunion are among the topics in this poetic exploration of the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Just as garum, the ancient, “pungent fish sauce,” was fundamental to every Roman, this slender volume of poetry seeks to describe the pleasures of a simple life. Beginning with various quotidian domestic scenes, the first section is written with a light touch, playing to the senses of readers. Excitement comes in “Family Reunion,” when the coastal scene changes overnight after an apparent hurricane: “How we slid down a new escarpment / made while we slept, / walked together up the beach, the twisted roots / all exposed now, / wondering how long the platinum sea / will take to reclaim her little island?” Part 2’s poems make up a narrative that describes a trip up the Erie Canal and a developing romance. The canal boat captain hires a cook and is so taken with her beauty, the ghost tale she spins, and her coffee that he asserts: “Before you / I had lived a life / without story.” Part 3, in haiku and tanka, consists of short bursts about nature and domestic life that lightly take risks: “Lonely firefly / world of warcraft flickers / in our neighbor’s window.” Letters’ effort to find the splendor in humble things and his spare, carefully chosen words create an attractive picture of home and nature. Part 2 has the most substance of the three, and its narrative form suits the author’s writing style very well, though the story could have been fleshed out even more. The poetry overall has a nice, quiet modesty to it, yet some poems are so subtle as to lack much effect. The Japanese-inspired devices toward the end are rightly full of nature—willow trees, swans, and “Mosquitoes big / as bears”—producing an enjoyable sensory experience.

A slim collection of imaginatively written poetry that sometimes takes subtlety too far.