Lightning at Dinner: Poems

The poems in Moore's sixth book are passionate meditations on love, partnership, loss, and aging. Moore, in the title poem, delicately renders the complexities of partnership: ""Our hands / touch, finally, hours / after our argument."" He looks back compassionately at his past: ""I floated in the large wind / of my childhood...waiting patiently, the good boy I was, / for all that easiness to end."" He variously figures his death: ""...let there be thunder on that day,"" ""...it is good to sleep the night through without waking."" Though Moore is not as edgy or grim, fans of Louise Gluck will find a voice they can relate to, as will readers of Tony Hoagland. Occasionally, Moore is prone to limp lines, in which original formulations cede the stage to unaffecting expressions, such as in a poem that ends, ""Try...not / going all the way."" There are also a handful of unconvincing, familiar, or overly sentimental moments, such as when a dog is asked to ""tell me / what life is like / for those who love / without condition or restraint."" But the book offers accessible and moving reflections on the surprises available to anyone willing to pay close attention.