Mary Oliver's "Ice"
Introduction and Text of Poem, "Ice"
Mary Oliver's "Ice" is composed of 21 unrimed couplets. Many of the couplets are split in a manner that contributes to the poem's overall sense of disorientation.
(Please note: The incorrect spelling, "rhyme," was erroneously introduced into English by Dr. Samuel Johnson. For my explanation for using only the correct form, please see "Rime vs Rhyme: An Unfortunate Error.")
The subject of the poem, the speaker's father, is likely suffering a mild form of dementia as he faces his own mortality. The disorientation of the father is captured by the speaker/daughter as she communicates this sorrowful, but heartfelt tale.
My father spent his last winter
Making ice-grips for shoes
Out of strips of inner tube and scrap metal.
(A device which slips over the instep
And holds under the shoe
A section of roughened metal, it allows you to walk
Without fear of falling
Anywhere on the ice or snow.) My father
should not have been doing
All that close work
In the drafty workshop, but as though
he sensed travel at the edge of his mind,
He would not be stopped. My mother
Wore them, and my aunt, and my cousins.
He wrapped and mailed
A dozen pairs to me, in the easy snows
Of Massachusetts, and a dozen
To my sister, in California.
Later we learned how he'd given them away
To the neighbors, an old man
Appearing with cold blue cheeks at every door.
No one refused him,
For plainly the giving was an asking,
A petition to be welcomed and useful-
Or maybe, who knows, the seed of a desire
Not to be sent alone out over the black ice.
Now the house seemed neater: books,
Half-read, set back on the shelves;
Unfinished projects put away.
Mother writes to me: I am cleaning the workshop
And I have found
So many pairs of the ice-grips,
Cartons and suitcases stuffed full,
More than we can ever use.
What shall I do? And I see myself
Alone in that house with nothing
But darkly gleaming cliffs of ice, the sense
Of distant explosions,
Blindness as I look for my coat-
And I write back: Mother, please
First Movement: "My father spent his last winter"
The speaker states that during the last winter of her father's life, he worked tirelessly in his drafty workshop making ice-grips for shoes.
The speaker then explains that the ice-grips are made of strips of inner tube and scrap metal. Parenthetically, she explains how the device is worn over the shoe to keep one from slipping on ice.
The speaker reveals that her father's health should have precluded, "All that close work / In the drafty workshop." But the speaker surmises that he felt the end of his life looming: "He sensed travel at the edge of his mind."
Second Movement: "He would not be stopped. My mother"
With the end of his life ever taunting him, the father could not stop to wait for death, for he felt the need to keep moving and creating. The speaker reveals that her mother, aunt, and cousins all wore the devices.
Implying that the father's preoccupation with making the ice-grips was a bit excessive, the speaker states that he sent them to her in Massachusetts and to her sister in California, where such equipment would not be needed.
Third Movement: "Later we learned how he'd given them away"
The speaker claims that her father also gave them to neighbors. She envisions him appearing with "cold blue cheeks at every door." And every neighbor accepted the gift.
She then speculates that in giving away the devices, her father was asking for approval to show that he was still useful. But she also speculates that he was giving the ice-grips so that others who might venture out on an icy day would be able to accompany him.
He was not content to remain house-bound when ice covered the ground, and he did not want others to suffer from that inconvenience.
Fourth Movement: "Now the house seems neater: books"
The ominous "now" at the beginning of the fourth movement signals that the father has passed, and the result of that passing is a neater house. His half-read books now stand back on the shelves, and his unfinished projects are all put away.
Fifth Movement: "This spring"
In the final movement, the speaker's mother reveals in a letter that the ice- grip creation was even more pronounced than they had realized.
In clearing out the father's workshop, the mother has run across so many pairs of the ice- grips. They were stuffed in cartons and suitcases, so many more than they could ever use. The mother asks the speaker/daughter, "What shall I do?"
In musing for an answer to the mother, the daughter visualizes herself in her parents' home—no doubt sometime after the mother's passing: "Alone in that house with nothing / But darkly gleaming cliffs of ice."
She thinks she hears or perhaps feels distant explosions, as she is "blindly look[ing] for [her] coat."
Thus, she writes to her mother, "Mother, please / Save everything." When the time comes, the speaker wants to be able to be in that house surrounded by things that surrounded her parents, not an empty, cold house filled with nothing but ice.
Mary Oliver reading "Wild Geese"
© 2016 Linda Sue Grimes