BackliSt! People's Poet KVItW Laurel Blossom New York Poems D. H. Melhem Syracuse University Press http://www.syracuseuniversitypress.syr.edu/ 184 pages; paper $14.95 my place to praise the moral station this street my muse raising rag banners to the general will fierce land of desperate saints. These words from D. H. Melhem's New York Poems neatly and passionately express the central themes of the whole project published here: the moral obligation of the poet to witness wrong and to praise human courage and grace. There is plenty of both in these pages. Revised and reprinted from two volumes, Notes on 94th Street (1972) and Children ofthe HouseAfire/ More Notes on 94th Street (1976), most ofthese poems were originally published in the 1970s; but a couple of additional pieces, "Requiescant 9/11" and "Prospect," bring the collection into the twenty-first century. It is remarkable how little the city's sights and sounds, scenes and characters and issues, have changed in the thirty years encompassed by these poems. They give us glimpses of our own Dickensian New Yorkers: the "window woman" who never leaves her apartment and dies unwanted and unmissed ; the doorman whose job it is "to keep deadi out"; the movie patrons; workers on strike; cops and robbers; the cleaning lady; the SRO occupant ; the immigrant kid who doesn't want to go to school wearing "the shoes ofmy sister" because he knows he will get picked on; roaches ; the mugging victim ; the dog walker; neighbors who are strangers, yet bonded by theircommon experience like friends. They're all here, vividly rendered, as alive in Melhem's short poetic sketches as they ever were in life. Observant and engaged, Melhem is a "people 's poet." Born of Lebanese immigrant parents and raised in Brooklyn, Melhem considers herself "quintessentially American": she is sympathetic to the multiethnic and multicultural continuities and discontinuities of urban life, at once poetically detached and passionately political, and imaginatively immersed in the emblematic lives she watches out of her Upper West Side apartment window. She speaks confidently for her characters, as* in "Tough Babe doesn't beg": No, please. It isn't a favor. You're not absolved by giving. Something in your pocket belongs to her, she believes. And in their voices ("supermarket"): mister manager, last week this little can of peas was twenty cents today it's two for forty-five think I think that's cheaper? D. H. Melhem is thefirst Arab American woman ever to have published a book ofpoetry in English. As her work matures in More Notes, she allows herself more into the poems, as if with increasing confidence in her own presence within them. There is ajournai ofpoetic shards from a love affair ("Love Notes") and a series of poems on the death of a beloved aunt ("Rose Poems"). But it is especially in the deeply felt "Requiescant 9/11" that Melhem takes up her own act of witnessing, sharing her experience and grief, offering, if not hope, then a wide and ever-widening empathy: I pray for the smoke of Ground Zero and the smoke over Afghanistan and every cinder of human history, I pray that my own breath embrace die blame and the connections to wounded and wounding animals who die, fall, and rise into the furnace of living. In the end, however, Melhem seems less comfortable in the ego than she is in the power of obserDetailfrom cover vation and empathy. In "Epilogue, Earth Speaks," Earth proclaims that "|_a]ll life deserves respect"; Melhem, in her own voice, invokes poetry's ability to "take up the things themselves," to "respect/life." She believes that the poem can grapple with the live space around the self can grip the air and hold light, and fly as the earth flies[,] taking the self—and all our selves—with it. It is the purpose of the poet to make that happen. Several of the late poems bow to William Wordsworth, John Milton, and Rainer Maria Rilke in their blank verse structure and visionary gleam. In the aftermath of September 1 1th, Melhem expresses a highly rhetorical final sentiment: we meant to take some wisdom with...