In “Letter to My Daughter,” Hase-Jackson describes a day spent fishing with her husband and young son, a day that ends with the birth of the daughter. She writes “It was the kind of idyllic day that makes / you think you’ve figured out something about life,” and includes evocative details like these: “We unloaded fishing rods and tackle, / the twitching stringed fish from the bed of the truck.” But even in this “idyllic” poem, hints of a crumbling marriage create tension, as the writer adds “and though your father drank, / it wasn’t much, his speech not too slurred.”
That tension threads its way through most of the book. In “Vestigial,” the marriage has ended and she describes her relation to her ex-husband like this: “I am a cryptic text from your ex.” The text includes a picture of a tree that she knows he will not recognize, “though it looks like the / honey locust you planted.” She ends the poem by contrasting how little she means to him with the hopes they perhaps once shared: “a past / when life seemed as lucid, / as promising, / as sapling roots reaching / down through fertile soil.”
While Hase-Jackson creates emotion-packed narratives, her work is also very much a poetry of place. In FLINT & FIRE we get the flavor of highways and roadside motels, of farms and cities, of Topeka and Kansas City and Albuquerque. We get the flavor of life.








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