Still Life With Feeding Snake by Burnside John
From our earliest childhood experiences we learn to see the world as contested space: a battleground between received ideas entrenched conventions and myriad Authorised Versions on the one hand and new discoveries terrible dangers and everyday miracles on the other. As we grow that world expands further to include new species lost continents the realm of the dead and the lives of others: cosmonauts swim in distant space unseen creatures pass through a garden at dusk; we are surrounded by delectable mysteries. The question of this contested liminal world sits at the centre of Still Life With Feeding Snake whose poems live at the edge of loss or on the cusp of epiphany always seeking that brief instant of grace when we see what is before us and not just what we expected to find. In 'Approaching Sixty' the poet watches as a woman unclasps her hair: 'so the nape of her neck/is visible slender and pale/for moments before the spill/of light and russet/falls down to her waist'. This like each poem in the book becomes an essay in still life and a memento mori illuminating transient experience with a profound clarity and a charged sensual beauty.