"Circulation"

By the time I came around to feeling pain
and woke up, moonlight
flooded the room. My arm lay paralyzed,
propped up like an old anchor under
your back. You were in a dream,
you said later, where you'd arrived
early for the dance. But after
a moment's anxiety you were okay
because it was really a sidewalk
sale, and the shoes you were wearing,
or not wearing, were fine for that.

*

"Help me," I said. And tried to hoist
my arm. But it just lay there, aching,
unable to rise on its own. Even after
you said, "What is it? What's wrong?"
it stayed put -- deaf, unmoved
by any expression of fear or amazement.
We shouted at it, and grew afraid
when it didn't answer. "It's gone to sleep,"
I said, and hearing those words
knew how absurd this was. But
I couldn't laugh. Somehow,
between the two of us, we managed
to raise it. This can't be my arm
is what I kept thinking as
we thumped it, squeezed it, and
prodded it back to life. Shook it
until that stinging went away.

We said a few words to each other.
I don't remember what. Whatever
reassuring things people
who love each other say to each other
given the hour and such odd
circumstance. I do remember
you remarked how it was light
enough in the room that you could see
circles under my eyes.
You said I needed more regular sleep,
and I agreed. Each of us went
to the bathroom, and climbed back into bed
on our respective sides.
Pulled the covers up. "Good night,"
you said, for the second time that night.
And fell asleep. Maybe
into that same dream, or else another.

*

I lay until daybreak, holding
both arms fast across my chest.
Working my fingers now and then.
While my thoughts kept circling
around and around, but always going back
where they'd started from.
That one inescapable fact: even while
we undertake this trip,
there's another, far more bizarre,
we still have to make.

This poem is interesting because it puts you in the middle of the night with Carver and his lover.  He describes how they wake up due to the sensation in his arm that has fallen asleep holding her.  Their struggle to resuscitate his arm goes on for a short while until they are successful. Things go back to normal, and she goes to sleep, while Carver lay awake in thought.  However, his thought that concludes the poem is what made me want to read the poem again. The first time I read the piece, I thought it was a strange instance between Carver and his lover in the middle of the night. Then he describes the occurrence as a trip, which made me think it had to be something more than just a random disturbance in the night. When he said this, it made me want to read deeper into the poem.  I began to read it as a trip, and as I did, I began to see it as his relationship and love for the woman he lay with.  The events and subjects described in this poem act as metaphors and symbols for their relationship.  I believe that his arm represents his love for her, and their struggle to wake it up, is a rough patch in their relationship. The struggle concludes with things going back to normal as they speak words of reassurance to one another.  This is where he leads the story back to the present time. The love in their relationship had been revived as Carver laid awake thinking about how things played out. He was contempt with the course that his trip had taken, and relieved that it had landed him in the place he desired.  He ponders this until his thoughts lead him to the thought that is constantly lingering in his mind.  Carver states, “Even while we undertake this trip, there’s another far more bizarre, we still have to make.”  His thoughts are in tune with the important aspects that make up his present life, but he is distracted by the thought of the next trip he will make. I believe the “more bizarre trip,” that he speaks of refers to death.  As he goes through life dealing with his current situations he is always thinking about what lies next. It is as if he is awaiting death, curious to discover what lies beyond the known.