Martha Silano's posthumous eighth collection, Terminal Surreal, incorporates science and nature imagery in a mischievous and moving verse account of her final years with ALS.
The shock and sorrow of a terminal diagnosis were eased by the quotidian pleasures of observing Pacific Northwest nature, especially birds: "I open/ my curtains to the crows, to a scrub jay in the maple." Silano (Last Train to Paradise) proposes neologisms for this conjunction of the world's beauty and her ache at leaving it: "WonderPain. MarvelWoe./ WowLoss." Her outlook is reminiscent of Mary Oliver's as she advises, "Kneel at least once a day,/ preferably at dusk, preferably// in front of someone or something that sustains you."
Fascination with science recurs, including "Why I Want to Be a Noble Gas" and a detail of the poet "reading a book about muons, gluons, positrons,/ and quarks." Silano also reflects on her relationships with her children and muses on her legacy. Most pieces are free-form, though there are three abecedarians. Rich alliteration and wordplay enliven the conversational register: "Did you say permission or persimmon? Either way,/ I will be your plankton, what keeps you phosphorescent"; "Grateful for Xanax, cuz what did people do without/ antianxiety meds? Love that it's a palindrome!"
Maintaining a balanced tone, Silano acknowledges her decline and ponders all she'll miss, yet manages to find the humor and ridiculousness in her situation. Her winsome philosophical work is a gift. "What doesn't die?/ The closest I've come to an answer/ is poetry." --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck