“The God of Nothingness” by Mark Wunderlich

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend April 17, 2017   The God of Nothingness   Mark Wunderlich

My father fell from the boat. His balance had been poor for some time. He had gone out in the boat with his dog hunting ducks in a marsh near Trempealeau, Wisconsin.  No one else was near save the wiry farmer scraping the gutters in the cow barn who was deaf in one ear from years of machines— and he was half a mile away. My father fell from the boat and the water pulled up around him, filled his waders and this drew him down. He descended into water the color of weak coffee. The dog went into the water too, thinking perhaps this was a game.  I must correct myself—dogs do not think as we do— they react, and the dog reacted by swimming around my father's head. This is not a reassuring story about a dog signaling for help by barking, or, how by licking my father's face, encouraged him to hold on. The dog eventually tired and went ashore to sniff through the grass, enjoy his new freedom from the attentions of his master, indifferent to my father's plight.  The water was cold, I know that, and my father has always chilled easily.  That he was cold is a certainty, though I have never asked him about this event.  I do not know how he got out of the water. I believe the farmer went looking for him after my mother called in distress, and then drove to the farm after my father did not return home.  My mother told me of this event in a hushed voice, cupping her hand over the phone and interjecting cheerful non sequiturs so as not to be overheard.  To admit my father's infirmity would bring down the wrath of the God of Nothingness who listens for a tremulous voice and comes rushing in to sweep away the weak with icy, unloving breath.  But that god was called years before during which time he planted a kernel in my father's brain which grew, freezing his tongue, robbing him of his equilibrium. The god was there when he fell from the boat, whispering from the warren of my father's brain, and it was there when my mother, noting the time, knew that something was amiss. This god is a cold god, a hungry god, selfish and with poor sight. This god has the head of a dog.            Copyright © 2017 Mark Wunderlich. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "For some time I have been thinking about narrative poems and the ways they can create dramatic tension. In this poem, I experimented with a kind of tonal flatness, as I didn't want to take this story about my father's struggle with brain cancer and turn it into melodrama. I also knew I needed to reward the reader's attention by offering a moment of poetic lift—a leap toward the unknowable. That's where the poem's title entered into the story, and the illness I write about took the form of a malevolent god." —Mark Wunderlich   Mark Wunderlich is the author of The Earth Avails (Graywolf Press, 2014). He teaches at Bennington College and lives in Hudson, New York.   Photo credit: Mary Jane Dean Poetry by Wunderlich   The Earth Avails (Graywolf Press, 2014) "The Song in the Dream" by Saskia Hamilton "The Power of the Dog" by Rudyard Kipling "When Ecstasy is Inconvenient" by Lorine Niedecker Poem-a-Day   Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. If you enjoy Poem-a-Day, please consider making a donation to help make it possible. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038

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