Taylor Johnson’s poem, titled “Lincoln Town Car,” and inspired by Deana Lawson’s photograph “Trap Car,” offers a poignant reflection on family, memory, and unspoken connections, all framed within the intimate space of a Lincoln Town Car. The poem, rich with sensory detail and emotional undertones, invites readers to delve into the nuances of familial bonds and the journeys, both physical and emotional, that shape us.
The opening stanza immediately sets a scene steeped in familial dynamics and subtle communication. The anecdote about the grandfather spelling words to outsmart the dog introduces a theme of language, both spoken and unspoken, that permeates the poem. The dog, a symbol of loyalty and perhaps a stand-in for familial connection, becomes a poignant image of loss and the inability to comprehend absence. This sets a tone of wistful remembrance and the complexities of family relationships.
The shift to the “country” and the preparations for leaving – showers, hair-fixing, clean shirts – highlight the ritualistic nature of family journeys. The Lincoln Town Car emerges as the central vessel for these experiences. Described as having “maroon leather” and being filled with a “humid thought,” the car is not merely a vehicle but an intimate space where shared emotions are palpable. The image of being “six-legged in the front seat” creates a sense of closeness, of bodies pressed together, sharing a collective experience as they embark on a journey. The description of the highway unraveling through “sorghum and corn and soy” grounds the poem in a rural landscape, emphasizing the contrast with the impending arrival in the “city.” The speaker’s act of “listening for muscadines swelling in the ditches” and the “quiet narrow” entering the city showcases a keen awareness of sensory details, further enriching the imagery of the journey within the Lincoln Town Car.
Alt text: Luxurious maroon leather interior of a Lincoln Town Car, emphasizing the spacious seating and iconic classic design elements.
The final stanza delves deeper into the unspoken language between the speaker and their grandparents. “Saying nothing, holding both my hands” encapsulates the powerful yet subtle communication that defines their bond. The “pines that set off sound in them” evoke a sense of place and shared history, suggesting that the landscape itself shapes their way of communicating. The grandmother’s repeated phrase, “That man, That man,” directed towards the hills, and the grandfather’s “practicing owning something” while shifting in his seat at the wheel of the Lincoln Town Car, hints at unspoken narratives and perhaps unresolved tensions within the family. The speaker’s feeling of being “the last let into the kingdom of their distance” suggests a unique and perhaps precarious position within this family dynamic. The act of counting “fallen pines” as the Lincoln Town Car navigates the “tidewater” hills becomes a meditative act, a way for the speaker to process their emotions and find their own voice within the “lonely” yet encompassing world of their family. The final image of putting “my voice inside them” (the pines) signifies a finding of self-expression and connection to the landscape, all while being transported through memory and place within the Lincoln Town Car.
Alt text: A vintage Lincoln Town Car traveling along a highway, illustrating a road trip through a scenic rural environment with fields and trees.
In conclusion, Taylor Johnson’s “Lincoln Town Car” is a masterfully crafted poem that uses the iconic American car as a focal point to explore themes of family, memory, and communication. The Lincoln Town Car is more than just a vehicle; it becomes a container of shared experiences, unspoken emotions, and the journey through personal and familial landscapes. The poem resonates with its delicate portrayal of intergenerational relationships and the enduring power of subtle gestures and shared silences within the intimate confines of a Lincoln Town Car.
