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Reading the work of poet Teresa Leo, one imagines how useful it might
be to plot the historical trajectory of the love poem as a form. In some
ways, love poetry itself seems like a generations-long enactment of the
phases of a relationship. We could trace its arc from ancient declaration
of naïve desire to full-throated, Baroque appreciations to its contemporary
stage, declaring disillusionment as a phase in the evolution (and decline)
of love. At each of these moments, we count on love poems to articulate
the permutations of our feelings, even those of which we are aware but
to which we cannot fix words. These territories have always existed, but
they have remained unnamed. Why? Poet Teresa Leo writes of the feelings
- emotional and sensory - that are the darker side of love, or more specifically,
what happens to a person when longing and desire are thwarted and how
that affects her over the long haul. In regard to her poems, Leo quotes
Louise Gluck: "All my life I have worshipped the wrong gods"
and goes on to note that her own work "explore[s] a similar revelation,
what happens when one is drawn, for whatever reason to the wrong partner.
They chronicle relationships that move from agency to desire to hesitation
and loss." Few options other than desire, hesitation and loss appear
open to the narrators in her poems, who hale from coal country, hang out
in cemeteries, and explore doomed affections. Violence is not far below
the surface of any interaction in these poems, where we contemplate "the
lovetaps and suckerpunch of morning" and nearly every communication
seems strained to snapping, as when another narrator receives an inscribed
book of poetry and dismisses its "counterfeit slogans that hide desire."
Leo's poems have the ring of familiarity that comes with reading about
mistakes one has made (less dramatically? more tragically?) in another's
words. Through this, she brings us to the furthest borders of the known
map of love - loss.
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