[James Midgley]

.
The Nightjar

In the end the two boys came to a cottage of stone,
a stream and a tree, and though they sensed they'd crossed
into the land of some shrikish neighbour who any moment
might appear at the sill of a high window like a redfaced vase
of roses, they knew the tree had made itself
for climbing and the boys to climb it. They footed up
the sunlight's stammering ladder, reached into nook and gap
that had been placed there perfect for their reaching,
all while the wind was a seething room which wouldn't take
them anywhere besides where they were meant,
each finger a dark-boned bird's tongue, each handhold
a collar stretched and muttered. From the midriff
of the tree they looked down into the muscled stream,
muscled because it ran dense with every fish imaginable:
buckled eels, mudlarked gold of tench, a stretch of salmon
huge and singular, and inchlings of every kind that swam
out of their young imaginings, and all of these not yet
were nipping, gnawing, conjoining with their roiling peers
as the water bunched its bicep. Further up they found
the roof tiles spread below like fledglings in an eggbox
and the highest window of the cottage still unmanned
and one turned to the other and said, Do you remember?
and trailed off, unsure as the other as to what came next.
There the bough hung heavy as a sow's suckled undercarriage
with every kind of fruit, though all of it was wasped
and rotted, all of it would soon tear the tree down with it,
though for now the branches had such strength, a climbing
strength, holding up their burden for no reason in particular.
With dusk arriving there came to the window not a man
nor woman but a bird, a nightjar they supposed,
though neither saw whether it had come from the old house
or from the falling sky. On long fingernails it seemed
to sit and sitting sang and the song was full of where
the boys had been before they could remember, a fleshed
blackberry kind of place, a singing at the end of thorns,
a holly leaf and bloodred bitterness, a snowy tabernacle
in which the cottage opened onto bird and onto cottage
and onto boy who, knowing what the song meant he must do,
hurled his lucky stone to kill it before the stone
could take on wings, could build a nest, could sing
the song the bird was singing from the darkened window,
before the darkened window was the sky it was.



.

[Richard G]

Hi James.

I really enjoyed the fairytale first half, the second half ... either it or I lost our way.
Visually, that great big block of text looks rather impenetrable.

This one could have done with some line numbering.

L3 - not sure 'any moment' is adding much that can't be derived from 'might' (and are you missing some commas there?)
L8 - seems like a repeat of L5/6
L9 - I struggle with 'seething' (I can hear it - the wind in the leaves - but it doesn't feel as single minded as 'where they were meant' - is 'to go' missing? - suggests.)
L11 - for a moment I thought it was the wind's 'finger'
L14 - didn't like the repeat of 'muscled' (who would need the explanation?)
L17 - similarly, don't think you need this line/explanation.
L18 - got lost on 'roiling peers'
L21 - 'unmanned' is a disappointment after the triumph of 'red-faced vase'
L24 - 'undercarriage' knocked me right out of the poem.
L24 - 28 - this section seems comparatively weak, could you simply cut it?
L29 - 30 - this isn't a surprise given the title (so do you need 'not a ...'?) Further, the title asserts so why is it supposition in the text?
L32 - 'fingernails' after the earlier hesitation over finger gave me pause.
L36 - 'tabernacle' seemed to wrench the poem from one place to another. I'm definitely floundering now.
L39 - Where does the 'lucky stone' come from? (After 'tabernacle' I'm thinking David. Wrongly, I'm sure.)


RG.

[Hilary Biehl]

I like this, but I think the formatting needs an overhaul. I almost didn’t read it because of the wall of text. I also think it could be trimmed in places.

Some high points for me were the “shrikish neighbor,” “the sunlight’s stammering ladder,” “the wind was a seething room,” and this whole passage: “a fleshed / blackberry kind of place, a singing at the end of thorns, / a holly leaf and bloodred bitterness, a snowy tabernacle”.

Like Richard, I’m not crazy about “undercarriage.”

I would consider cutting the passage enumerating the fish, or at least paring it down considerably.

I don’t understand the roof tiles being like fledglings in an egg box; I can’t visualize that and I didn’t find the language there compelling.

This part didn’t work for me: “all of it would soon tear the tree down with it, / though for now the branches had such strength, a climbing / strength, holding up their burden for no reason in particular.” It seems like you are trying to explain to the skeptical reader why the boys were able to climb the tree even though it has all this rotten fruit that is going to pull it down, and that took me out of the poem. I would cut or reword at least part of it. I do like “all of it would soon tear the tree down with it” … maybe you could end the sentence there?

Near the end, how is the cottage opening onto the cottage? I don’t understand that, but it may be my own failing.

I hope some of this is helpful.

[Nick McRae]

Unfortunately I don't have much time for detailed critique, but reading this the only standout word for me was 'singular'. It felt a bit removed from the rest of the poem and an unusual way to describe salmon.

The rest of it read pretty well to me, a few word choices here and there that felt not so inspired. But I think you did a pretty good job of keeping the poem fluid and cohesive without much individual phrasing distracting from the whole.

I also enjoyed some of the parts where you used unusual phrasing. I'm on mobile at the moment so it's hard to highlight them.

[Carl Copeland]

I’m enjoying this tale too, James. The figurative oddness of it intrigues me, though I agree with Richard that “undercarriage” breaks the spell a bit. Is “underbelly” really too straightforward? While I search for something more perceptive to say, I’ll offer a few unpoetic quibbles:

the tree had made itself for climbing and the boys to climb it

Grammatically unpacked, this comes out “the tree had made itself for climbing and [had made] the boys to climb it” or, more shakily, “the tree had made itself for climbing and the boys [had made themselves] to climb it.” It’s clear enough what you mean, but do you really want smart alecks picking the grammar apart?

I’m with Richard again on “muscled because.” For me, it’s not so much the announcement of an explanation as the fact that you don’t explain anything after announcing it. How do fish make a stream muscle-like? It’s an intriguing metaphor, but doesn’t cut it as an explanation. Who knows, though, maybe that’s the point …

all of these not yet were nipping, gnawing …

To me, this says the fish weren’t yet doing any of the things you describe. What am I missing?

I love “it seemed to sit and sitting sang” and its echo of Stevens: “Except the one she sang and, singing, made.” On second thought, though, how does one “seem to sit”? Is it an inversion of “it seemed to sit on long fingernails”?

[Hilary Biehl]

Originally Posted by Carl Copeland

the tree had made itself for climbing and the boys to climb it

Grammatically unpacked, this comes out “the tree had made itself for climbing and [had made] the boys to climb it”

That's actually how I read it. Now I am uncertain how that line is intended, but I did read it as meaning that the tree had made both itself and (for the sake of climbing it) the boys. Otherwise wouldn't one just say "the tree had made itself for the boys to climb"?

[Matt Q]

Hi James,

I like this a lot. The language is fresh and inventive throughout. There's definitely a fairy-tale vibe. A hint of a witches house and beanstalk, and a dark, somewhat ambiguous ending. The nightjar, perhaps taking the role of a witch, and the witch killed before it can enchant -- which in a fairy-tale context might make the boys heroes -- or before it can reveal the boys to themselves, so we might instead see them as the villains of the piece, and which opens the poem up to a psychological subtext.

I wondered a little a "the sunlight's stammering ladder". Now, in context I take this to be the tree, but I'm not getting a strong picture. Why is it the sunlight's ladder? Maybe the sunlight lights a path up it? Why is it stammering? Is this the light stippling through the branches, and the branches are moving? Maybe. Perhaps a touch more is needed to light the image up for me. Also, "foot it up" -- tends to suggest that they're not using their hands. Maybe something other than "footed"? "limbed"?

"each handhold (was) a collar stretched and muttered" had me confused. The boys stretch their collars with each handhold, or the handhold is a collar? They boys mutter the collar as they stretch it? The tree mutters the handhold? Also, the proximity of "collar" (neck) to the "midriff" of the tree seemed a bit odd.

Like others, I found "undercarriage" took me out of the poem's spell somewhat. Maybe because it feels like a word too often used for double-entendre. I did wonder about "teetering" for the word play on "teat", but I guess that doesn't really convey weight. But anyway, I reckon you could find something else.

best,

Matt