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Short Takes of This Saturday

Inspired by June Jordan’s “Short Takes”

 

I

Everyone stands unassuming

below the window

I hide

 

II

For whatever reason the seconds slowed down

I reached

but I still couldn’t

get to him

in time

 

III

My heart!

It has stopped!

Who would have thought

my death could be brought

by one person’s fall from the sky?

 

IV

Heads heal heavenly

my or his feet, cool as ice

this night tiptoes away

poem #1 on the principle of discovery, or her heart

 

For you I was not prepared

For you

I am willing to be paired

Saying It

Ekphrastic of Amy Winehouse's "Valerie"

 

My shaking voice fades,

disappearing into hers.

Stop making a fool out of me.

I did it again.

Dammit: be quiet.

I’m mute. I’m overlooked.

Her starved shadow drifts towards me

like smoke in a dark room -- stop

making a fool out of me. I’m caught --

in the throat of a woman who may be alive

or dead, depending on how loud

the music is.

I replay all 210 seconds,

as if another listen will help me speak

my own handsome plea. 

Stop making a fool out of me.

I whisper the name Valerie;

I hear his vehement voice instead.

A raw singer’s manifestation runs

straight into me, and all of her words

bolster all of mine. From that green couch

she says to him for me:

Stop making a fool out of me.

Smoking a Cigarette

 

We were smoking a cigarette outside Sirrine because screw a tobacco free campus this is South Carolina but all I had were reds and it was searing the back of my throat and unloading palpable amounts of tar into my lungs and Jack thought maybe I should put it out and so did I so I tossed it and said, “fuck it, Jack give me your cig I’m losing my mind   the work never ends and the words won’t come and if I had my way we’d be as far away from this courtyard as my Mazda and our debit cards could take us,” and Jack said, “c’mon love how many times have I told you worrying’s a waste you have all the words you’re just too scared to let them out and if you wanna fucking write a poem you gotta get a glass and pour the words out like whisky,” and so I finished his cig and caught the bus home and grabbed the bottle of Jameson and my favorite green pen and realized Jack may be annoying but damn was he right.

Poetry Final

In response to June Jordan's "Letter to Mrs. Virginia Thomas, Wife of Whatzhisname Lamentably Appointed to the Supreme Court, U.S.A."

Dr. Weise,

Do not think that just because you’re forcing me to do this via assignment and it’s finals time and I’m drowning in the shit of my beloved pet, Procrastination, that I’m not enjoying writing this for you because, you see, I’ve fallen in love with a woman named June Jordan and she’s dead and definitely queer and I’m not either of those things so that makes it complicated but in the words of Angelica SHE GIVES ME LIFE and I thinks it’s a pretty common thing that people freshly fallen in love (is it the honeymoon phase they call it?) never stop talking about their beloved so here we go: I bought a book because I liked the title (Kissing God Goodbye) and I read a poem in this book because I liked the title - Letter to Mrs. Virginia Thomas, Wife of Whatzhisname Lamentably Appointed to the Supreme Court, U.S.A.

June is sometimes such a giver. For example she constructs this title that, in give-or-take fifteen words, gives me so many pieces of information about the poem. First, I learn that the poem is in the form of a letter, and so I can toss out the need to identify whether it is a sonnet or a ghazal (yay!). Second, I learn that the poem has two subjects, Mrs. Virginia Thomas, to whom the poem is addressed, and Mr. Justice Thomas, whom the poem is about. I know he is a Justice because the title tells me so (and, admittedly, because I’ve read many opinions written by him). I also learn through the title that this poem has political themes relevant to our country because, obviously, it says “Supreme Court” and also because June chooses to identify the country as U.S.A. I associate the term U.S.A. with feelings and images of patriotism, like glittery Old Navy tank tops sold only in red, white, or blue for the Fourth of July. But, contrary to the nostalgia of firecrackers and hot dogs, I also learn that the tone of this poem is disdainful – Justice Thomas is lamentably appointed according to June – as well as condescending. “Whatzhisname” is a phrase first abbreviated by contraction and then colloquially slurred into one word, and June choses to neologize the phrase into a new word. It is also a very flippant way to refer to a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. Clearly June is not happy. It is not hard to find out why.

Before I move into how unhappy June is, a small digression: I know that I have been referring to June the poet when speaking to things about the poem, which has a speaker. And I know that according to alter idem, the speaker and the poet are not one in the same. I will continue to refer to June, however, because I cannot believe that this is some sort of monologue where the speaker is separate and distant from the poet. It is, to me, more like a self-portrait. Not because the poem is about the poet herself, but because everything I have learned about June Jordan biographically and through her poetry leads me to think that she believed these words vehemently, and it gives me glimpses of her personality and her thoughts on this moment in time.  

Okay back to the poem. Immediately I notice enjambment: “I mean I thought that he was loathsome to the nth / degree “ (lines 2-3). In this instance, the line break causes an inflection that places emphasis on the word “nth” because it is at the end of the line. The same line break/inflection thing happens between lines 40-41 and lines 67-68. Reading the poem with these line break-induced inflections creates more of that condescending tone June introduced me to in the title. Next I notice that there is no ending punctuation in the poem except for a few exclamation marks. The exclamation marks amplify the tone and the lack of punctuation everywhere else makes the pace at which I read the poem is a quick one. Additionally, the first stanza utilizes anaphora (albeit a one-letter anaphora) to create a list of sardonic descriptions of Justice Thomas. It’s no coincidence that this stanza is the longest one in the poem – June has a lot of insults for the guy. The rhythm is fast and exclamatory; the poem becomes biting and little bit angry.

There are also some instances of weird syntax, like lines 14-15 where June jumbles together a couple slurs in a way that makes me feel as if there’s something omitted from the sentence. Maybe I just don’t know what apple polish means. I don’t know, here’s the text: “a mediocre mediocrity of apple polish / brown nose cut-throat” Can you tell if there’s an elision?. There’s another example of odd syntax at lines 47-48, where June switches the nouns from one idiom with the nouns of another and what comes out is just weird-sounding. Two pods in a poke, two pigs in a pea? That’s just a bizarre group of words. At lines 58-59 she repeats herself, but the second time is in Yoda voice, and she finishes the poem at line 69 with a repetition of line 66. All of this syntax is ridiculous, and I think June does it on purpose.

I know that authorial intent isn’t supposed to matter but for this poem I think it does. June is pointing out the ridiculousness (hint: the reason I used “ridiculous” above) of a statement made by Mrs. Virginia Thomas in regards to the woman who accused her husband, who at the time had just been nominated to the Supreme Court, of sexual harassment. I’m sure you’re aware but just in case, here’s the statement: “In my heart, I always believed [Anita Hill] was probably someone in love with my husband and never got what she wanted.”  (People, 1991) The intent in this poem is so so clear. And June succeeds in her intent, I think. But it kind of puts me at odds with myself.

You see, sometimes I like Justice Thomas. Sure he’s one of the most conservative Justices on the Court, but I like the way he thinks about constitutional interpretation (often described as a textualist approach) and I even just used a direct quote from a dissenting opinion he wrote to support my stance on the need for a color-blind Constitution. However, I am also a woman preoccupied with ideas of feminism and constantly thinking about the atrocious ways in which misogyny and rape culture shape our society. And to that effect, Mrs. Virginia Thomas’ statement hurts me. In June’s words I can feel anger, and it rubs off on me. This poem pulls my brain in one direction and my soul in another and I hate when that happens (I still love you though, June) because it leaves me feeling very confused and strangely anti-gravity, as if I’m floating around inside my own brain pinball-bouncing back and fourth between what I thought I knew and what I now know.

The good news is that I think that’s okay. You taught us “The purpose of poetry is to continue the art and change the art.” Pinsky could have made his statement clearer if he had said, “The purpose of writing poetry is to continue the art and change the art.” Because I believe that poetry’s purpose, if poetry was a person and had a purpose in life, would be to make it’s reader continue and change. That’s what this poem does for me.

 

Please give me a good grade in your class.

 

Sincerely,

Eliza Larkin

Violet

Third student in fatal car crash

At sixteen I began to see each of my 

friends as brightly colored adhesive tack, 

each sticky piece

According to the police report

holding together bits of body I 

would otherwise drop. 

Scarlet stuck on a pair of balls that eventually

got itchy but for a time 

gave me strength.  

Easily avoidable accident

Cerulean reattached my arms at the same time as

she tore her own apart. 

I'd never known my wrists to be 

double-jointed, but there they were. 

Will town make changes

Forrest kept my hips aligned and

Magenta put my stomach back inside me and

Coral climbed between my shoulder blades

with a bunch of white feathers and 

We extend our condolences.

I never saw her again

but I shit all over her ex's car just because I could. 

When you're flying, in the air or down the road, 

no one can touch  you. 

(c) 2016 by Eliza Larkin. All rights reserved.

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