THE J HOROSCOPE

These collected poems imaginatively take the viewpoint of J, one of four writers of the Bible’s book of Genesis.

Chmielarz (Little Eternities: Poems, 2017, etc.), an accomplished poet, initially published several of these poems in literary magazines, including Commonweal and The Hudson Review. This collection focuses on connections between contemporary experiences and those recorded in ancient biblical texts. According to the epigraph from the 1990 work The Book of J by David Rosenberg and Harold Bloom, a hypothetical biblical writer called J was so named “for her intense interest in Yahweh’s character,” who was also called “Jahweh.” These poems are intensely interested in the stories that J allegedly collected and wrote down. They’re connected by 13 “intersections”—poems in italics that comment on or relate to the others. In “Intersection #1,” for example, the speaker considers mangoes, specifically their color and sweetness: “We danced to mango / close like lovers. Mango’s / sweetness melted us into life.” But experience can be bitter as well as sweet, as shown in the poem that follows, “Yahweh the Stork re the Family.” The narrating stork says, “I’ve seen it all—the father who killed his son, / the sons who threw their brother down a well”; nevertheless, “The next day I deliver another baby, a bundle / of trust”—trust being the first, and first forgotten, “contract with the world.” Other poems are based on specific biblical episodes, such as Lot’s transformation into a pillar of salt, Noah’s Ark, Joseph’s betrayal, and prophetic dreams, while others touch on primal experiences, such as giving birth or experiencing a death in the family. Several poems breathe freshness into old tales by centering on a woman’s point of view. In “The Boatman’s Wife,” for example, Noah’s long-suffering spouse wishes that she could fly away from “this whole mess”; her husband finds prophecy in raindrops and lets his beard get scraggly while she’s “corralling / the stupid hens.” Yet her practical nature finds release, with the poem ending in possibility: “At least she could save the birds. // At least, this one dove—.” The dove becomes a potent symbol not just of hope, but of freedom—saved by the wife’s longing to escape the ark and fly up into the wild sky. Several poems speak of loss, which was the focus of Chmielarz’s 2015 collection, The Widow’s House. The six lines of “Where One Becomes Two” are haikulike in their concise linkage of image to consciousness: “The old fox has died. / Now his mate is alone. / Now she must cross the river alone. // Look. / In the water. / Two foxes.” “Look” in the fourth line echoes the book’s epigraph, which begins “Look. A woman is writing on parchment,” which, in turn, calls to mind the more familiar translation, “Behold.” These connections, and the poem’s spare, stripped-down quality, demand that readers pay attention to the numinous link between spirit and body, so beautifully captured in the piece’s final line.

Thoughtful, bold, humorous, earthy, and humane—a superb collection.