Maurice Kenny’s "Last Word" is a complex and deeply personal elegy, offering a portrait of the poet’s father through a blend of humor, frustration, admiration, and unresolved tension. The poem presents a man who is both ornery and caring, contradictory and consistent, embodying the generational masculinity of an era marked by toughness, traditional gender roles, and a rough-around-the-edges kind of love. Kenny’s depiction is neither sentimental nor condemning but rather a raw and unfiltered remembrance that captures the father in all his contradictions. The poem opens with blunt characterization:
"He was an ornery cuss, bull-headed as a Hereford, sensitive as a sitting hen."
The pairing of "bull-headed" and "sensitive" immediately sets the tone for a man of contradictions—stubborn and tough but not without feeling. The juxtaposition of a bull and a hen humorously encapsulates his dual nature: unyielding and aggressive, yet at times vulnerable and even nurturing. Kenny then acknowledges his father’s roughness:
"No doubt he gave you a rough time, probably whacked you once or twice."
There’s a matter-of-factness here, a recognition of a harsh upbringing that was likely common in working-class households. Yet, any deep resentment is tempered by a moment of defiance:
"I remember taking the broom to him, and that finished our affair for life."
This is a pivotal moment. The act of standing up to his father—physically resisting him—marks the breaking point in their relationship. The phrase "finished our affair for life" is striking in its cold finality, suggesting that whatever bond once existed was irreparably severed. The next lines shift to a more humorous, yet still unsentimental, depiction of the father’s habits:
"He was known to take a glass of beer, and I've heard it said he'd pinch a waitress' buttocks, never refused a bed."
This description paints him as a man of indulgence, someone who drank, flirted, and lived without much restraint. There’s no moral judgment in the line, just a blunt acknowledgment of who he was. The relationship between father and child is further explored in moments of both generosity and pettiness:
"He taught you how to drive his car and promptly took the Ford away."
Here, the father is both a teacher and a withholder—offering a skill but not the freedom that comes with it. This contradiction is echoed in the following line:
"He'd buy you a new dress and grumbled if you wore it."
These instances highlight his inability to fully embrace his own acts of care. He provides, but begrudgingly, unable to give without also asserting control. The poem continues with an anecdote that captures both his temper and his frustration:
"One year he furiously threw / the Christmas tree down the cellar stairs when he couldn't nudge the lights to blink."
This moment, both comedic and revealing, encapsulates his short fuse—his reaction to a minor inconvenience is one of full-force anger. The destruction of the tree, a symbol of family and tradition, suggests that his frustrations often disrupted domestic life. Religion is another facet of his paradoxical character:
"After he bought the radio he never went to Mass, but never missed a funeral."
The father is not pious in a conventional sense—he abandons churchgoing but remains deeply engaged with the rituals of death. This contradiction hints at a complex relationship with faith, duty, and perhaps his own awareness of mortality. Then comes one of the most striking shifts in tone:
"Monday through Thursday he was a gentle man, coy as a kitten, soft as a rabbit. / He showed his colors Friday nights when we kids went through his pockets for dimes and nickels which rolled from his pants along the kitchen floor."
This contrast between "gentle" weekdays and the implied roughness of Friday nights suggests a transformation that coincides with payday, possibly linked to drinking, gambling, or just the stress of the workweek giving way to a more volatile personality. The image of children scavenging for loose change adds a layer of economic hardship to the family’s experience. Yet, despite his flaws, there are undeniable acts of responsibility and care:
"But he paid Agnes' way to Missouri and gave Mary a husband to keep / 'till death did them part, and he got me out of trouble as fast as I got in."
Even in his gruffness, the father fulfills obligations, ensuring his daughters have futures and bailing the speaker out of trouble. The phrasing here carries a grudging respect—he may have been difficult, but he was dependable. One of the most striking moments of the poem comes next:
"Even after the divorce he made payments on your insurance policy."
This quiet act of continued support stands in contrast to his earlier, more volatile behavior. Though he may not have been a conventionally affectionate man, he did not abandon his responsibilities. Love, in his way, was expressed through action rather than words. The final lines bring the poem to a powerful and poignant close:
"He died. / The very last word he said was, 'Doris.'"
After all the complexities, contradictions, and unresolved tensions, the father’s last word is a name—Doris. Whether this is the speaker’s mother, an old love, or another woman remains unspecified, leaving a sense of mystery. What is certain is that, in his final moments, his thoughts were with someone, offering a rare glimpse of vulnerability in a life otherwise marked by toughness. Themes and Interpretation- The Complexity of Fatherhood – The father is not idealized; he is a flawed, difficult man, yet one who still provided in his own way. Kenny resists a simple narrative of love or resentment, instead presenting a layered portrait.
- Generational Masculinity – The father embodies a certain kind of mid-20th-century masculinity: rough, non-verbal, contradictory. He works hard, provides, but struggles to show affection.
- The Legacy of Memory – The poem is not just about the father but about how he is remembered. The speaker does not attempt to resolve the contradictions; instead, he accepts them as part of who the man was.
- Love Expressed Through Actions, Not Words – The father is not demonstrative, yet his acts of care—paying for insurance, getting the speaker out of trouble—reveal a love that is tangible, if not gentle.
Structure and StyleKenny’s free verse and conversational tone make the poem feel intimate, like an oral storytelling tradition where memories unfold naturally. The use of humor and sharp, unfiltered observations gives the poem a raw authenticity. The structure mirrors memory itself—shifting from moment to moment, weaving together anecdotes rather than following a strict chronology. Conclusion"Last Word" is a deeply human elegy, offering a portrait of a father as remembered through the eyes of his child. Maurice Kenny neither glorifies nor condemns him, choosing instead to present a life in all its contradictions. The final word—Doris—lingers, suggesting that even in death, the father remained an enigma, his love unspoken but not absent. Through this poem, Kenny gives us a man who was tough yet dependable, brash yet caring, frustrating yet unforgettable—a father, in all his complexities.
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