Walter McDonald’s “After the Noise of Saigon” consists of nine three-line stanzas that present a lyrical, first-person description of a hunting trip. The prey is ostensibly a wounded cougar, but more significant, the speaker is creating a space to confront a wounded part of himself. That crazed, wounded aspect of his psyche, the result of his Vietnam experience, must be faced alone and in the wilderness. Though little hope for complete healing is suggested, the poem convincingly portrays a veteran doing what he must do to persevere in the present.
The poem begins with a conditional sentence that focuses attention on the reason behind this particular strenuous pursuit: “If where we hunt defines us,” the speaker posits, “then stalking this steep hillside/ dark with spruce makes sense.” The hunt, then, is in part for self-definition, and to that end it makes more sense than the speaker’s other way of experiencing his past: the dreams he has “floundered in/ for years” and which have left him only “disgusted.” However, progress is difficult. When he looks back for any “spoor” (blood from the wounded animal) he might have missed, he is flipped in the face by switches. When he swings his head “face-forward for clues,” he is stung by evergreen needles.
“The strangest nightmare of all,” more threatening even than the ardent struggle of the hunt, is the fact that he has chosen a method of hunting that places him in...
(The entire section is 491 words.)