Holding the Reader's Interest

[matsunosuperfan]

Looking over the discussion, considering some assumptions.

First, that the reading of the poem is linear - like the mouse's tale, it starts at the beginning, comes to the end, then stops.

Unless we're considering nth readings and skipping ahead, that means you start with a cleans slate and a full bag of tricks, and as the read progresses the slate gets dirty and the bag empties.  (Okay, the title is on the slate to begin with, but it's easy for the reader to forget.)

So, you start with a brilliant first line or couplet.    You're now one trick down and the reader's expectations are raised (assuming it worked).  You see where this is going:  you don't want to get well along in the work but with nowhere to go (in the story, but mainly talking about wordcraft here).  On the other hand, the surprise ending (or the like) is a cliche.  Where do you peak so as not to disappoint and potentially bore the reader?

The impression I get from the above is that in addition to rhetorical high points there need to be turns (like the conventional turn at the end of a sonnet).  A sudden change of ground or direction as opposed to a brilliant firework line that's  gone once the reader has time to savor it and then read on.  And for a work of more than a few lines, there should be several such turns.

Of course they can't be too wild (in the meantime, everyone back at the ranch has died of monoxide poisoning from that leaking charcoal stove).  Or can they?

Yes this all sounds more or less right to me and explains why I find James Tate, Dean Young and Kim Addonizio, to name a few, so captivating at the height of their powers:

Eating Together

By Kim Addonizio

I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,   
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know   
how thick her hair used to be,   
and what it takes for her to discard
her man’s cap partway through our meal,   
to look straight at the young waiter   
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,   
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what’s killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel   
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,   
puffy from medication. She lowers   
her eyes to the food, pretending
not to know what I know. She’s going.   
And we go on eating.

---

In the Addonizio poem there is no big "aha" ending - the speaker makes clear the circumstances of the occasion right away. The whole poem is concerned with the same juxtaposition highlighted in the closing lines. But they feel epiphanic nonetheless, because they offer a new way to see the scene that's just been described - a final "turn" in a series of turns.