Love Prodigal

Love, divorce, illness, and grief are at the center of Brimhall’s expansive and moving fifth collection (after Come the Slumberless to the land of Nod). The title poem is among the book’s most evocative, framing love as something that, like the prodigal son, departs, endures hardship, and returns—sometimes changed, sometimes forgiven. At their best, Brimhall’s poems balance humor and grief, as in “Will & Testament”: “Bury me with one of your shirts/ in case I come back as a bloodhound. Save my favorite panties—/ the pink ones—for a sexier immortality or a lonely evening.” Similarly, “Body, Remember,” inspired by Cavafy, meditates on memory’s impermanence: “And over legs you endlessly shaved, grasses will grow like you—eager, wild, surviving every day they can.” Though the collection’s fire motif is persuasive in individual poems, it becomes overextended as the phoenix mythology collides with biblical references, diminishing its effect rather than deepening it. “Diary of Fires: A Crown of Prose Sonnets” strains to braid fragmented lyricism and philosophical asides, sometimes feeling forced rather than revelatory. Despite these excesses, Brimhall remains a master of list-making, anaphora, and imagery. It adds up to a striking, if uneven, collection. (Nov.)