Book Review: Scratches on the Moon

By Alexis Rotella
Published by Jade Mountain Press
Maryland, USA
2019, Paperback, 52 pp.
ISBN: 978-1-079980-52-3
$19.99
Ordering Information

Reviewed by Patricia Prime

Alexis Rotella, one senses, never stops “looking about”: always listening, questioning, searching, peeling away layers of the familiar to see what lies beneath. Her latest gathering of poems—a book of haibun, Scratches on the Moon—is a delicious and sustaining collection that illuminates, like a lightning flash, the fragility of personal relationships.

In the space of 47 haibun, varying in length from 4 lines to 2 pages, Rotella demonstrates a mastery of form. The haibun enact experiences in the poet’s life, elegising a vast troupe of troubled and spectacular friends and relatives. She laces her rhetoric throughout with wit, irony, and humor—she has an instinct for the joke that adds depth to the moment. “Shocking the Neighbours,” for example, recalls the young Alexis showing up the local gossips.

       Party line
       who kissed
       who

I’ll show the old biddies who’s boss. With a baking-powder cigarette, I stand in front of the candy sore, blow fake smoke into the afternoon air. They think I can’t see them as they peer through starched lace curtains, eager to report back to my mother. There are no secrets in this no-horse town where Mom will be waiting at the gate with a ping pong paddle.

              The wind
              leaves scratches
              on the moon (7)

Many of her poems are narratives of survival and resilience. In “Working Girl Blues,” after leaving school, she moves in with roommates and begins work:

Pay day is tomorrow. But I’m hungry now. Too proud to ask Mom for a handout. Roommates all in the same rut. With a hanger, I try to fish from my piggy bank slot a $20 bill but no luck. A neighbor in the next flat loans me his hammer. I treat him to a burger, onion rings and strawberry pie but refuse his goodnight kiss.

              New dresses
              in my closet
              price tags still on (14)

This kind of fluent, quick-cut momentum can be found in almost every haibun. Rotella shows an endless capacity to re-imagine the lives of people, realistically and with insight, as in the haibun “Paul and Paula”:

I admire you, she tells me. I’d never do that for Paul.

Do what for Paul?

Sew a button on his shirt.

You didn’t take my karate-gi to the laundry again, Paul says. I need it for tonight

I’m not your gofer.

Careful not to prick my finger, I keep on sewing.

              Wail of a catbird sharpens the knife (22)

The quick-cut juxtaposition can also be where comedy exists, as in “Divorced a Year”:

He seems the same, dressed in khaki trousers. Unemotional, almost robotic in his speech patterns. I notice the Lava Lamp I took to my apartment is back on his end table—or one identical to it. Same with the cranberry glass ashtray. Wherever did he find another? Ditto for the throw rug in the hallway which we bought on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond ten years ago. The exact Richard Ginori fruit bowl, a wedding present, sits on his kitchen counter. Except mine has a hairline crack. Over tomato soup and egg salad sandwiches, he asks if I’d like to move back in.

              Screen door
              the rocket scientist
              doesn't see it (26)

Along with a wealth of comedy, the haibun offer stories of a more serious nature, exploring the culture of American life. “Bizarre World,” for example, features a man who transitions as a woman:

He leaves work early on Friday, returns Monday morning dressed as a woman. As I apply my lipstick I spot him in the mirror adjusting a fiery red wig. My eyeballs pop. Oh, the thought of him hearing me tinkle and more.

              Forgotten
              on the cross-town bus
              pink boa (32)

Rotella is also not afraid to look at herself. When she recalls a dream in “Message from a Dream,” an air of wisdom lingers:

I’m wise enough to know the rat from last night’s dream has meaning. Pluto, god of the underworld, is transiting my natal Mars. My gut tells me to dig out the 24K gold Buddha at the bottom of a black lacquered box. Wear it 24/7, even when asleep.

              A king cobra
              strikes at
              the mirror (39)

There isn’t space to go into every haibun in the collection, which was honored with a Touchstone Award by The Haiku Foundation. Quick-witted, powerful and priceless, this collection contains a wealth of lessons for any budding writer of haibun.

For writing insights from Alexis Rotella, click here.

About the Reviewer

Patricia Prime is co-editor of the NZ haiku journal Kokako. She is the articles editor for Contemporary Haibun Online and also is a reviewer for Atlas Poetica, Takahe, and other journals.