As If It Had Granted Its Permission

"Candlelight"

Tony Hoagland

Crossing the porch in the hazy dusk

to worship the moon rising

like a yellow filling-station sign

on the black horizon,

you feel the faint grit

of ants beneath your shoes,

but keep on walking

because in this world

you have to decide what

you're willing to kill.

Saving your marriage might mean

dinner for two

by candlelight on steak

raised on pasture

chopped out of rain forest

whose absence might mean

an atmospheric thinness

fifty years from now

above the vulnerable head

of your bald grandson on vacation

as the cells of his scalp

sautéed by solar radiation

break down like suspects

under questioning.

Still you slice

the sirloin into pieces

and feed each other

on silver forks

under the approving gaze

of a waiter

whose purchased attention

and French name

are a kind of candlelight themselves,

while in the background

the fingertips of the pianist

float over the tusks

of the slaughtered elephant

without a care,

as if the elephant

had granted its permission.

    This poem is filled with images of death. Not, however, the images one would presume to find in your classic poem about death. Here, Hoagland points out the death that is happening constantly and all around us. The death many choose to ignore, and that many don't even notice in the first place. It's more than just death that this poem grapples with though, it's also about the act of killing. Hoagland assesses the way in which we prioritize ethically some things over others, specifically in the context of middle class consumerist society. While doing this, he slips in the subtle assertion that you can't save everything, and that entirely ethical consumption isn’t possible in the world we live in. There's a hint of remorse because of it too.
When one eats a steak or unknowingly crushes an ant, she may not view these actions as the act of killing. Hoagland argues that it is just that. His tone isn't accusatory, however, and at times it's almost matter-of-fact. His assertion that "in this world/you have to decide what/you're willing to kill" makes it seem unavoidable. The "faint grit of ants beneath your shoes" isn't fazing because of its perceived insignificance. His use of "faint" is intentional, as the feeling is almost imperceptible. Eating a steak is equivalent to killing a cow, which in turn has killed rainforest, which then hurts the atmosphere. Even going out in the sun kills skin cells on your body. All this killing seems unavoidable, and it is. Hoagland does seem to feel some guilt despite this, however. When he speaks of playing on an ivory piano "as if the elephant/had granted its permission," there seems to be some criticism. His tone at the end of the poem is almost sad, as if the fact that this killing is unavoidable doesn't make it right, that it still leaves one uneasy.
Hoagland's poetry focuses largely on the culture of middle-class America, and consumerism is a key aspect of that culture. While many examples of killing in this poem aren't related to consumption, the central image is. Candlelight, the title of the poem, falls on the steak that is being used to save a marriage. This encompasses the death of a cow, the death of a section of rainforest, and the thinning of the atmosphere, which will inevitably affect generations to come. In Hoagland's example, it will affect "your grandson on vacation" and burn the cells of his scalp. Here, we see in a somewhat ridiculous illustration the impossibility of consumption under capitalism being harmless. Hoagland uses this image to assert that even mainstream activities such as going out to dinner with your spouse are harmful to something in some way. "Still you slice/the sirloin into pieces/and feed each other/on silver forks."
"Candlelight" is a poem that analyzes the flaws of the world that we live in. Many of these flaws are impossible to change. Hoagland writes what could be a coming-to-terms with that, with the constant and unavoidable killing happening all around us, happening because of us. He leaves with a somewhat disappointing image, that of the pianist playing on the tusks of a slain elephant. The pianist doesn't care at all for the elephant, and plays on as if the elephant had told him it could do so. He is trapped in the willful ignorance Hoagland believes we all must participate in to get through life.