How Low and Dark the River’s Voice Can Go

Sculling by Sophie Dumont introduces a poet who writes with tenderness and humour about loss. Centred on the death of an ex and the subsequent donation of his organs, it tells the story of a young woman navigating the complications of grieving a partner while trying to begin her own life. Water and kayaks appear frequently, and the opening poem, ‘To Kayak’, sets the tone. It playfully leaps through a list of definitions of what kayaking might mean. The speaker layers gentle quips with vulnerability, to great effect: ‘river turned you upside down, backed you into a corner, / reminding you of how low and dark its voice can go’.

Water moves freely through these pages. From puddles to rivers to rain, the speaker is drawn, time and again, to this elemental force as a metaphor for her grief. In the prose poem ‘Self-Portrait as Rain’, Dumont flits between memory and imagination, capturing a somewhat childlike sense of wonder:

It was raining when I jumped into the puddle as a small girl because it seemed as though the clouds were on the floor and I might just be able to jump into sky. Instead, sky ran down my shins and into my wellington boots to stain the soles of my white cotton socks grey.

Dumont continually juxtaposes the innocence of girlhood with the traumatic losses of young adulthood. There’s inner turmoil throughout, and, in many places, the deceased are addressed directly. The vibrancy of hours spent with nieces and nephews contrasts sharply with a family awaiting the death of a grandfather. ‘I don’t ...