![]() |
Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
Fanny Howe’s "One Night in Balthazar" is a dreamlike, fragmented meditation on love, loss, and the presence of evil. The poem unfolds in a dim, uncertain space where memory, intoxication, and metaphysical forces intermingle, creating an atmosphere of unease and longing. The opening lines establish a setting both mundane and ominous: "The hotel bar downstairs / was dirty and dark and almost empty / except for him whom I didn’t know." This image places the speaker in a liminal space, a place of transit and anonymity. The phrase "him whom I didn’t know" immediately sets up an ambiguity—does this figure represent a stranger, a past lover, or an incarnation of something more sinister? The next lines introduce a philosophical assertion: "I lost my balance / because evil is aroused by absence." This statement is striking in its abstractness. The speaker’s disorientation is not merely physical but existential. The idea that evil is aroused by absence suggests a void into which darkness seeps—perhaps the absence of love, morality, or even selfhood. The poem then shifts outward, describing "a brick city [that] had grown up and old." The city is no longer vibrant but a shadow of itself, a place where "a person could only nibble on its shadows." This suggests deprivation, a sense of being unable to fully inhabit life, as if the city offers only echoes of past grandeur. The question "Where was my beloved?" is a pivotal moment, underscoring the speaker’s isolation. Love is missing, lost, or unreachable. The "cornerstone" of her life is "familiar but unrecognizable," further emphasizing a sense of disorientation. The phrase "infinity / was seeping into my hair" adds a surreal quality—perhaps signifying the weight of time, memory, or the infinite nature of longing. The introduction of "Somebody" who says "He?s out of his bottle" adds another layer of mystery. The phrase suggests a genie released, a spirit temporarily freed, or simply someone who is "out of service and empty." This could refer to a lover, a figure of power, or even a metaphor for the speaker’s own detachment. Then, a sudden shift introduces Arsene, a name that evokes European noir, intrigue, or even the infamous thief Arsène Lupin. He is positioned "beside the last remaining cabin," a relic of a past world, wandering with "his eyes on the camera." This suggests surveillance, performance, or perhaps a self-awareness that borders on fatalism. The detail of "Dynamite in his pocket / and a piece of thread / to trap a rabbit" juxtaposes destruction with fragility. Arsene embodies both danger and delicacy, reinforcing the poem’s theme of contradiction—love entwined with harm, presence laced with absence. The poem’s definition of evil is stark: "Evil is a growing thing / It has its own gravity / and never answers to its name / It is a hole into chaos. It is real." This assertion deepens the sense of foreboding, reinforcing the idea that malevolence is an independent force, expanding and consuming without acknowledgment or accountability. The poem concludes with the speaker’s confession: "Arsene held me in his arms / He was drunk as usual / and his nipple smelled of rum / But still I loved him— / loved him madly!— / as if he was the one." This ending is intimate yet tragic. The speaker’s love persists despite Arsene’s flaws, his intoxication, his association with violence. The exaggerated "loved him madly!" suggests an awareness of the absurdity of this love, yet it remains irresistible. The phrase "as if he was the one" implies doubt—whether he was ever truly the one or if the speaker simply needed to believe it. Ultimately, "One Night in Balthazar" is a haunting poem about the intersection of love, fate, and the encroaching presence of evil. The speaker navigates a world where familiar things become unrecognizable, where passion coexists with self-destruction, and where absence is a force as powerful as presence. The poem resists clarity, leaving the reader suspended in its dreamlike, ominous atmosphere—much like the speaker herself.
| Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLOOD ON THE WHEEL by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA SUMMER IN A SMALL TOWN by TONY HOAGLAND EVERYTHING'S A FAKE by FANNY HOWE YOU CAN?ÇÖT WARM YOUR HANDS IN FRONT OF A BOOK BUT YOU CAN WARM YOUR HOPES THERE by FANNY HOWE PHOTO OF A MAN ON SUNSET DRIVE: 1914, 2008 by RICHARD BLANCO |
|