{"id":130539,"date":"2018-11-01T11:00:42","date_gmt":"2018-11-01T15:00:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=130539"},"modified":"2018-10-31T16:38:30","modified_gmt":"2018-10-31T20:38:30","slug":"poetry-rx-you-could-make-this-place-beautiful","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/11\/01\/poetry-rx-you-could-make-this-place-beautiful\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Rx: You Could Make This Place Beautiful"},"content":{"rendered":"

In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx<\/a>, readers\u00a0write in<\/a>\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match. This week, Sarah Kay is on the line.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

\u00a9 Elis Rosen<\/p><\/div>\n

Dear Poets, <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

After a long separation, I\u00a0spontaneously invited an ex-fling to join me on a trip across Europe. Given our delightfully sordid past, I assumed the trip would be full of flirting and playful sex. Not the case. He showed up entirely disinterested in me, was boorish about my plans and ideas, and spent every spare moment texting other women back home. It was supposed to be a steamy jaunt with my favorite bad boy\u2014but it was more like babysitting a sullen teenager for two weeks. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Prior to this trip, I had some long-lingering feelings and hopes about us as a pair. Suffice it to say, I\u2019m over it. So while I\u2019m not exactly heartbroken\u2014this is no breakup\u2014I still feel like I\u2019m mourning the end of a long fantasy and confronting the reality of his indifference. Do you have a poem for this type of finality: when you at last see the truth of a situation, swallow it uncomfortably, and move on at last?<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Sincerely,
\n<\/span>Wrong Girl\u00a0<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Wrong Girl,<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel like you have chosen an incorrect name, and that you are more like the Right Girl, but with the Wrong Guy. More specifically, you are the Right Girl who has fallen for the age-old trick of falling for the Fantasy Guy, but winding up with the Actual Guy Who, As It Turns Out, You Might Not Actually Like That Much. I want to recommend Muriel Rukeyser\u2019s poem\u00a0<\/span>\u201c<\/span>Waiting for Icarus<\/span><\/a>.<\/span>\u201d<\/span> The poem begins: <\/span><\/p>\n

\n

He said he would be back and we\u2019d drink wine together
\n<\/span>He said that everything would be better than before
\n<\/span>He said we were on the edge of a new relation
\n<\/span>He said he would never again cringe before his father
\n<\/span>He said that he was going to invent full-time
\n<\/span>He said he loved me that going into me
\n<\/span>He said was going into the world and the sky
\n<\/span>He said all the buckles were very firm
\n<\/span>He said the wax was the best wax<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

I love this poem, because it suggests that women have been falling for the <\/span>myth<\/span> of men, in lieu of the real man in front of us, since \u2026 well, mythical times. It is easy to get swept up in the stories we tell ourselves about people, especially when they are far away. A long separation paired with a few hot memories is a dangerous cocktail. The end of Muriel\u2019s poem goes:<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember the girls laughing
\n<\/span>I remember they said he only wanted to get away from me
\n<\/span>I remember mother saying : Inventors are like poets,
\n<\/span>a trashy lot
\n<\/span>I remember she told me those who try out inventions are worse
\n<\/span>I remember she added : Women who love such are the
\n<\/span>Worst of all
\n<\/span>I have been waiting all day, or perhaps longer.
\n<\/span>I would have liked to try those wings myself.
\n<\/span>It would have been better than this.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The voice of the \u201cgirls laughing\u201d and the narrator\u2019s mother insisting that \u201cWomen who love such are the worst of all\u201d stings terribly, and reminds me of the voices we carry around in our heads after something like this happens: <\/span>I should have known better, I was so stupid, how embarrassing,<\/span> etc. But I hope you can move through those voices to the last two lines of the poem. You deserve your own wings; you can have epic adventures without any myth or man to carry you. You do not need to reach the sun or fulfill a fantasy\u2014just flying around in this stratosphere is enough. As long as you are doing it with someone whom you <\/span>actually<\/span> enjoy, who shows up for you and treats you the way you deserve.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013SK<\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Dear Poets,<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

I just called out my harasser from college on Twitter. I\u2019m anxious, scared, and tired. This is such a great and horrible time to be a woman. Can you please recommend a poem for a tired soul?<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Love,<\/em>
\nTired Soul<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Tired Soul,<\/span><\/p>\n

I want to recommend a whole collection to you, called<\/span> Women of Resistance: Poems for a New Feminism<\/span><\/a>. It is full of poems that explore the many ways it is both a great and horrible time to be a woman. The ways we are tired, the ways we are fighting, the great distances we have come, and the immense distances we have to go. Today, I would specifically point you to Denice Frohman\u2019s poem,\u00a0<\/span>\u201c<\/span>A Woman\u2019s Place<\/span><\/a>,\u201d<\/span> which begins:<\/span><\/p>\n

i heard a woman becomes herself
\n<\/span>the first time she speaks
\n<\/span>without permission
\n<\/span>then, every word out of her mouth
\n<\/span>a riot
\n<\/span>say, beautiful
\n<\/span>& point to the map of your body
\n<\/span>say, brave
\n<\/span>& wear your skin like a gown or a suit
\n<\/span>say, hero
\n<\/span>& cast yourself in the lead role<\/span><\/p>\n

\/\/\/<\/span><\/p>\n

when a girl pronounces her own name
\n<\/span>there is glory
\n<\/span>when a woman tells her own story
\n<\/span>she lives forever
\n<\/span>all the women i know are perennials\u2014
\n<\/span>marigolds, daffodils
\n<\/span>soft things that refuse to die<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I hope you continue to tell your own story and point to the map of your body and say, \u201cbrave.\u201d Speaking without permission, being a soft thing that refuses to die\u2014you are already doing this. As a coincidence, you mentioned Twitter as the platform on which you chose to speak out. Twitter actually tapped Denice to use an excerpt of this poem for<\/span> a video<\/span><\/a> they made, featuring a multigenerational group of women from twenty to eighty-two, that premiered during the 2018 Oscars telecast. I love so many of Denice\u2019s poems, and I especially love watching her perform them, so peek at that video (and others of hers!) when you get a chance. Now if only Twitter were better at supporting and protecting the people who face and report harassment on their platform\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013SK<\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Dear Poets,<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

I am currently taking a poetry class in college, and even though my friends do not consider it a serious discipline, it is the class I enjoy the most. I want to study literary arts, but everyone is telling me that there are no prospects, that poetry is a hobby, that it\u2019s just something \u201cnice to have.\u201d What poems can I give them to show that poetry can be more? How can I justify that poetry is an endeavor and pursuit in its own right? What words of fortitude, wisdom, or self-reassurance do you feel confident in giving?<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Yours,
\n<\/span>Nervous Wreck<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Nervous Wreck,<\/span><\/p>\n

I hate that \u201chobby\u201d is being used as an insult. A hobby is something you do outside the mechanics of capitalism or industry because you love it, and because it brings you something the other things in your life do not. Is that a good enough reason to write and read poetry? Absolutely. Does studying literary arts mean you will end up a professional poet (whatever that means)? Not necessarily. Is that the only outcome that justifies this direction of study? Also no. Nobody can predict the job market or what jobs will <\/span>exist<\/span> in five years, so I think focusing on becoming an excellent communicator, a critical and creative thinker, a careful reader, and a generous collaborator, all while deeply enjoying what you\u2019re studying, is quite reasonable. (I also do not think you <\/span>need <\/span>to study poetry in a formal college class in order to be a poet, of course, but since the opportunity is in front of you and you already love it, for goodness sake, don\u2019t let others talk you out of it.) <\/span><\/p>\n

Trying to <\/span>justify<\/span> poetry is frustrating to me, because it suggests that poems need to fit into a very narrow and reductive definition of useful<\/em>. What I really want to tell you is to get new friends who trust you and offer you support and enthusiasm regardless of your interests! But I also empathize. If what you want is to prove to your friends that there is a career in poetry, it makes me grit my teeth to even give them a response, but perhaps you can share with them that according to the global information company<\/span> The NPD Group<\/span><\/a>, the \u201cpoetry book\u201d category in the United States has grown at a compound annual growth rate of twenty-one percent since 2015, making it one of the fastest growing categories in publishing. A poetry book reached the top of the New York Times<\/em>\u00a0bestseller list in 2017, and<\/span> sold over a million copies<\/span><\/a>. According to new<\/span> NEA findings<\/span><\/a>, in the past five years, the number of poetry readers in the United States has almost doubled to a total of twenty-eight million adults. This is the highest number the NEA has seen since 2002. The largest increase in poetry readership in the past five years has come from young people ages eighteen to twenty-four, and from African American, Asian American, and other nonwhite readers. And that\u2019s just books. Online, folks who have been nicknamed \u201cinstapoets\u201d have gained global audiences. Twelve of the top twenty best-selling poetry authors in 2017 were so-called instapoets. Button Poetry is a popular Youtube channel with a hundred thousand subscribers that features videos of poetry performances that collectively boast two hundred million views. And these are just the most obvious ways that people are making lives out of poetry. Others are also touring artists, professors, <\/span>sociologists<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>comic book writers<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>young-adult fiction writers<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>TV writers<\/span><\/a>, youth mentors, <\/span>podcast hosts<\/span><\/a>, librarians, activists, <\/span>musicians<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>actors and producers<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>cultural critics<\/span><\/a>, and the list goes on and on. There are so many people finding innovative ways to be poets. And that\u2019s also just in this country! The<\/span>\u00a0range gets even wider and more impressive outside the U.S. I very rarely engage in trying to justify poetry, because it reminds me of<\/span> a tweet<\/span><\/a> I read from a professor of poetry and creative writing at Newcastle University that said, \u201cPoetry [is] the Schr\u00f6dinger\u2019s Cat of Journalism: First place in a box so you don\u2019t have to bother about it, then wonder if it is alive or dead.\u201d It frustrates me that people who spend none of their time engaging with poetry relegate it to a box and then declare it dead. But I also consider myself impossibly lucky to have a front-row seat to the many ways that poetry is alive\u2014thriving, growing, changing lives and cultures, reaching new audiences every day. Making money off of poetry is possible, though it\u2019s certainly hard work. It\u2019s also not the main reason to write and read poems. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ok. Phew. Now for your poem. I want to share with you<\/span> Good Bones<\/span><\/a> by Maggie Smith. The poem begins:<\/span><\/p>\n

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
\n<\/span>Life is short, and I\u2019ve shortened mine
\n<\/span>in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
\n<\/span>a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
\n<\/span>I\u2019ll keep from my children. The world is at least
\n<\/span>fifty percent terrible, and that\u2019s a conservative
\n<\/span>estimate, though I keep this from my children.
\n<\/span>For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
\n<\/span>For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
\n<\/span>sunk in a lake.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

When I first read this poem, it was a few days after the 2016 massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. The poem brought me to tears, and I wasn\u2019t the only one. So many people were searching for language in a moment of overwhelming grief, and they found this poem. It was shared online by Caitlin Moran, Alyssa Milano, Megan Mullally, Jenny Slate, and it kept going. Articles have been written about the poem in the<\/span> Guardian<\/span><\/a><\/em>,<\/span> Slate<\/span><\/a><\/em>,<\/span> The Seattle Review of Books<\/span><\/a><\/em>, and<\/span> the <\/span>Washington Post<\/em><\/span><\/a>, which noted that the poem has now been <\/span>interpreted into a dance by a troupe in India<\/span><\/a>, turned into a musical score for the voice and harp, and been translated into Spanish, Italian, French, Korean, Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, and Malayalam. Whenever the news turns especially bad, this poem surfaces again, shared from person to person. \u201cI can tell something bad is happening in the world when my poem is surging,\u201d Maggie has said. I don\u2019t tell you all this so that you can impress your friends, because a poem does not have to go viral to be vital. \u00a0I tell you this so that you remember that poems have the immense power to move people, to connect people, to offer language in moments when language seems impossible. There is a reason people reach for poems for weddings, funerals, protests, inaugurations, when they fall in and out of love\u2014poems take the knot inside you, untangle it, and give it a way out. Or they take the knot outside you, untangle it, and give it a way in. Maggie\u2019s poem ends: <\/span><\/p>\n

I keep this from my children. I am trying
\n<\/span>to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
\n<\/span>walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
\n<\/span>about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
\n<\/span>right? You could make this place beautiful.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

That\u2019s a big part of what poetry offers me: a way to try and make this place beautiful.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013SK<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Want more? Read earlier\u00a0installments of\u00a0Poetry Rx<\/a>.\u00a0<\/i>Need a poem?\u00a0Write to us<\/a>! Next week, Sarah Kay will be answering questions.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Sarah Kay<\/a>\u00a0is a poet and educator from New York City. She is the codirector and\u00a0founder of\u00a0Project VOICE<\/a>\u00a0and the\u00a0author of four books of poetry, including\u00a0<\/em>B,<\/em>\u00a0No Matter the Wreckage,<\/em>\u00a0<\/em>The Type,<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>All Our Wild Wonder.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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