House of Sound

The ruminative debut from Daddona considers the role of departures in shaping the arc of a life. In three sections—“House of Sound,” “Last Night, the Caterwaul,” and “Human Touch”—Daddona investigates the roles of family and loss in personal identity, as well as that of time’s relentless proceeding. “House of Sound,” the opening poem, illustrates this concern: “Because a shadow/ wants to leave you/ but doesn’t know how—/ it takes light/ years to grow dark/ away from itself.” Elsewhere, in “The White Dog,” the speaker declares, “I watched snow dissolve/ on heels of impenetrable flowers.// These are only symbols of time.” Many poems contemplate the domestic sphere, and several are about or addressed to the speaker’s dog. Anticipating the creature’s departure from the family, the speaker says, “lie down dog lie/ down land where dogs/ roam divot to fence/ sun-spotted,” to which he draws a parallel to selfhood: “we have the same back/ we are the same/ man is an image in himself.” Occasionally, these sorts of metaphorical connections feel overstated, though they are in keeping with the collection’s restlessly probing quality. The 28 carefully crafted poems in this debut offer a glimpse into a mind on the search for answers. (Oct.)