Vox Populi
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Dorianne Laux: The Optimism of French Toast
No matter how many years since
the first bite passed my lips, that business
of eggs and day old bread, ribbon of syrup,
fireflies of butter sparking my tongue’s buds,
I think of my Acadian ancestors
landing on the shores of Nova Scotia, divining
logs from the deep woods, fashioning windows,
hanging laundry from two oars dug into sand—
the flags of domesticity flayed by the wind.
I see the fruits of their labor rise up
from the marshes: beets, parsnips, cabbages
and corn, and the wheat they ground
to powder and baked into bread.
And the chickens shook out egg after egg
we broke into shallow bowls, beat
with a spoon, each thick slice dipped
into that loom of albumen, chalazae and yolk,
then laid on a scrim of grease in the pan
where it sizzled its solitary song.
How could these French be
considered a scourge, their houses
burned to the ground they had worked,
forced to take the tangled circuitry
of dirt roads with nothing but what
they could carry on their backs? No time
for funerals, no place to go. And yet
here I am listening to Clifton Chenier
on the radio, daughter of a people
who refused to die, a sack of wheat
on the shoulder, spoon in a belt loop,
sugar sprinkled in a pant cuff,
a sleeping chicken hidden under a coat.
~~~~
Copyright 2024 Dorianne Laux. From Life on Earth: Poems (Norton, 2024). First published in Resonance Journal. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author.
Dorianne Laux‘s many poetry collections include Only As the Day is Long: New and Selected Poems which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize.
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A fabulous and wistful poem. Yes, those French Canadians suffered badly. First the Iroquois and then the Brits. That hardship faced by one’s ancestors stays somewhere in the DNA. And then French Toast, our go-to when the kids were little (and as teenagers). How could I forget – must make some tomorrow, the bread will be just right.
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Lovely!
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I remember so well, when I read Awake, Dorianne’s first book, in 1990: having such an admiring, grateful feeling for her ardent, open, inviting & inclusive voice that I so needed (and still need!) to hear — and how I still buy each book of hers with that same glad feeling. I love her work, & love her husband Joe Millar’s work just as much.
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Yes, poets come in couplets, as you well know, Laure-Anne.
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I love this poem. The strange roads we’ve all taken to get here. And I love French toast. ________________________________
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yes, strange roads.
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How long has it been since I listened to Clifton Chenier or learned a new word, (chalazae), or made French toast (and I have that new syrup from Costco that was stored in whiskey barrels. I was going to pass the person handing out samples but then he asked me to try and it was so good I had to buy— there I go again). I love her poetry. Although I just rehomed 7,000 books, there are still the bookcases of poetry and friends’ books in the den— oh, btw, loved the Hummingbird Wars, Michael, feeling a bit naughty in that I plan to loan it to my pastor son (heh,heh)—this is almost a second go at life. Although I have read Dorianne Laux in this second life, I will read again today ( not sure she ever made it to the bookshelf, probably in a stack by the bed). I think it’s time to stop rambling and make some French toast. Mmmm
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Lovely comment, Barb. Thanks for reading The Hummingbird Wars. My novels have been blurbed by theologians and thrown into the proverbial fire by a South American priest. My theologian brother loves the series, but my atheist progressive friends hate it… My now-passed mother-in-law used to say that I love to stir the shite, and she was right.
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A few of my favorite things–French toast, Acadian music, sheer persistence.
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Thanks, Jordan.
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she’s got the immigrant experience down. Reading this I think of my parents and all the immigrants who I grew up around in Chicago.
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Yes, a lot of my family are immigrants or the children of immigrants as well. I think they have an appreciation of America that we longtime natives have forgotten.
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Thank you Dorianne, French toast will never be quite the same again, such history, such music!
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Detail, perfect pacing, and she always sticks the landing. A searing poem. Brava.
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I agree. Dorianne’s poems are perfect in every way, and they seem effortless. I love her work.
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Among the books I will take with me to my desert island – definitely Dorianne Laux, Laure-Anne Bosselaar and, actually, all I’ll be taking are books – how can I leave behind poets who journey with me, whose wisdom, minds and words line my heart, my mind, my writing, my dance – and my survival? I will drag that shabby old trunk along the beach until I find the right tree, where I will build a tree house and unpack my books… and then I will kick myself for not bringing a frying pan to make French toast…
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In my desert island fantasy, books by James Wright, Philip Levine and Dorianne Laux… Maybe a few others…
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Oh yes! And Wilfrid Owen, Maya Angelou, Lucille Clifton…I think we should open a book store on the island…
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Hahaha. The poet in me says YES. The businessman says NO.
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I’m with the poet!
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Am glad Lucille Clifton would have arrived already.
I’d add Seamus Heaney, Jane Kenyon, Emily D, and Gary Snyder.
and a Bob Dylan repertoire to chant before bed.
oh, and for sure a bulging anthology of Vox Populi poets.
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good choices, Jim.
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And a French Toast to all the poets who whet our poetic appetite, prepared by Dorianne Laux, served by the Vox Populi crew.
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The crew being me!!!!
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So fabulous—the morphology of her tongue in—these artful persistent lines, surviving and settling our minds for good in our deepest admiration and awe of her. She is queen of my poetry frontier. I hope she never moves away. Please stay Dorianne, stay!
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I agree — a fabulous poem. Wow.
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