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Dining on Salt: Four Seasons of Septets
by Wayne Lee
80 poems / 138 pages
Price: $22.95
Publisher: Cornerstone Press
ISBN #: 978-1-960329-85-1
To Order: Cornerstone Press or Amazon
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Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
When I review poetry books I tend to court a touch of “friendly skepticism.” I hold off “signing on” with the book. However, Wayne Lee’s Dining on Salt: Four Seasons of Septets, “had me from hello,” to borrow a line from the movie, Jerry Maguire. Two reasons merged for me: First, Lee demonstrates how instrumental poetry was, and continues to be, in coping with the loss of his dear wife Alice. Second, I received an education about the poetry form “septet.”
I was transfixed reading Lee’s “Preface: Four Seasons of Septets.” This important back-ground summary traces the author’s discovery of the septet form as well as the rigorous self-imposed discipline Lee put himself through to become proficient in it. (I dare say that the poet himself would deny my assertion of proficiency.) The Preface also provides important context about “why” a collection consisting entirely of poems no longer than seven lines. Exhausted after twenty years of serving as caregiver for his disabled wife, her death by suicide was a further emotional/psychological blow waiting backstage to further test his mettle. To quote the poet himself:
“… my writing practice has always been a way for me to process life experiences, so in the end I was grateful for my self-imposed discipline. The limitations of the seven-line forms forced me to crystallize my thoughts and feelings and helped me digest them in bite-sized bits, rather than choking on the enormity of it all.”
I have noticed this before: it is as if poetry becomes a spiritual dimension of the grieving person’s life. Poetry takes over as a life-giving, life-saving force. Without poetry the grieving person himself might perish.
Dining on Salt is organized under four headings: I. That Sounding Sense, II. This One Sock, III. White than the Palest Skin, and IV. Gestures of Preservations. One may regard these divisions in more than one way as to “seasons.” The natural transformations of planet earth, and/or the seasons of Wayne Lee’s experiences as Alice’s caregiver. The enigmatic title selections suggest the latter rather than the former.
From Sounding Sense, for me, two poems set the stage for the sections that follow:
What a Wonderful World
I hold your waist as you transfer from wheelchair
to toilet seat, pull down your wet pullup
and pajama bottom, replace them
with a dry diaper and clean cotton pants.
We stand like that for one sweet moment,
your forehead pressed against my chest,
swaying to that first slow dance in the park.
This poem and the next begin a progression of seasons in their poignant love expressions. I visualize the emotions, the play of memory flowing through the poet. This is intimacy; this is commitment; this is love.
Reading to My Wife
Will you read to me? she asks
when she can’t sleep. Will you read
from Peter Rabbit or Winnie the Pooh?
So I sit by her bed rail and narrate again
the tales she knows so well, until the meds
kick in, until she closes her eyes,
clutching her favorite bear.
Alice can still communicate. She asks for things Wayne can still deliver. And deliver he does, showing long-suffering grace.
Wayne's beloved succumbs in the next section: “This One Sock.”
Sunlight: A Shanzi
–for Alice Rose Lee (1952-2018)
My wife takes her
life and an angel
suddenly appears.
I kiss her, then
she too flies off.
Blinding sunlight,
then the darkest night.
The grace of long-suffering finds its end, but the end is only the beginning. Even though Wayne has suffered he defers to his wife as the true sufferer. At this point, the title poem comes into play:
Dining on Salt: A Whitney
No dinner,
again. Empty
heart, empty
belly. Dining
on salt, on
all that is left
after the sea has dried up.
The “Whitney” is one among dozens of septet variations employed by Lee. His own dark night commences–Wayne “needs” poetry, now as never before to get him through. This poem holds nothing back, yet the poet is under control with how he expresses his grief. Could there be a more effective image than …
“after the sea has dried up.”
After his salt diet, Wayne visualizes a wide range of delectable things:
Root Soup
I have this hunger for rootstocks, for rutabagas
and Yukon Gold potatoes, for unpeeled carrots, turnips,
parsnips, for the fruits of the earth that ripen slowly
in the autumn sun, for sweet onion, plump garlic,
skin-on delicata squash. And for the kiss of seasoning,
for sea salt, rosemary, peppercorns, lemon thyme.
I have this need for what lies beneath.
Thus, the third season “Whiter than the Palest Skin” begins with things “beneath” the ground. There is savory richness, robust coloration and sweet aromas. I sense the power of poetry coming powerfully into play, but in a new way. “Windowpane” is an example of this new way:
Ice on the pond
thin as a windowpane.
Some grief must be drowned
in small words and soft sounds.
Koi slow themselves down in winter,
grow so cold they eat no food at all.
Clouds float below my feet.
Note the simple, relaxed ambience. Grief is not managing the poet. The poet is subsumed in the near limitless power of words to slowly transform his life.
Dining on Salt has had a transforming effect on my life. I too have witnessed seasons of grief. What Wayne Lee has achieved will stand the test of time and will be living light to many who grieve.
In addition, Lee offers a wide array of additional information about the septet form:
Appendix A: A Brief History of the Septet
Appendix B: A Compendium of Seven-Line Forms
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