{"id":133009,"date":"2019-01-24T12:58:52","date_gmt":"2019-01-24T17:58:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=133009"},"modified":"2019-01-24T15:23:08","modified_gmt":"2019-01-24T20:23:08","slug":"poetry-rx-you-are-a-threat-loving-yourself","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/01\/24\/poetry-rx-you-are-a-threat-loving-yourself\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Rx: You Are a Threat Loving Yourself"},"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 Ellis Rosen<\/p><\/div>\n

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

I am a young woman living in New York. I am the daughter of an alcoholic. When I was twelve, my mom stopped drinking, and we began a long conversation about the nature of addiction. We spoke about our genes and the importance of drinking cautiously (if at all). <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Two years ago, I went through my first breakup (we were together for five years), and I have since surrounded myself with new friends (many who drink heavily). I feel as though I am starting to depend on alcohol to bring me the comfort that my partner once provided. There is a large part of me that would love to be sober, but it seems there is a larger part of me that enjoys the instant gratification and social ease that alcohol brings. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

I am searching for a poem that will encourage me toward sobriety and\/or capture this dual nature within myself. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

With gratitude,
\n<\/span>Afraid of My Own Addiction <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Dear Afraid, <\/span><\/p>\n

I want to recommend to you a poem by Lynn Emanuel, called \u201c<\/span>Frying Trout While Drunk<\/span><\/a>,<\/span> \u201d in which the author describes her mother\u2019s addiction to alcohol as entangled with her mother\u2019s addiction to a man. This may not be your mother\u2019s experience at all, but I chose this poem for you because of the last section, which reads: <\/span><\/p>\n

mother, wrist deep in red water,
\n<\/span>laying a trail from the sink
\n<\/span>to a glass of gin and back.
\n<\/span>She is a beautiful, unlucky woman
\n<\/span>in love with a man of lechery so solid
\n<\/span>you could build a table on it
\n<\/span>and when you did the blues would come to visit.
\n<\/span>I remember all of us awkwardly at dinner,
\n<\/span>the dark slung across the porch,
\n<\/span>and then mother\u2019s dress falling to the floor,
\n<\/span>buttons ticking like seeds spit on a plate.
\n<\/span>When I drink I am too much like her\u2014
\n<\/span>the knife in one hand and the trout
\n<\/span>with a belly white as my wrist.
\n<\/span>I have loved you all my life
\n<\/span>she told him and it was true
\n<\/span>in the same way that all her life
\n<\/span>she drank, dedicated to the act itself,
\n<\/span>she stood at this stove
\n<\/span>and with the care of the very drunk
\n<\/span>handed him the plate.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I am not here to pass judgment, nor am I here to tell you what you should or should not do. You requested a poem that might encourage you toward sobriety, and I thought for a long time about what kind of poem might supply that encouragement. The author of this poem writes, \u201cWhen I drink I am too much like her,\u201d and I sense that you are afraid that your mother\u2019s vulnerability to addiction might be yours as well\u2014that you might be too much like her in that way. If that is the case, perhaps it is worth reminding yourself of the obstacles she had to overcome, the details of her addiction that are easy to forget when you are in the middle of a party. The narrator of Lynn\u2019s poem cannot escape the sensory memories of her mother\u2019s alcoholism: the sound of the dress buttons, the red water, the white belly of the trout. Wrapped around these details are unspoken but implied feelings: of pity, of protectiveness, of regret. I am sure that you hold your own memories of your mother\u2019s battle with addiction. It may be painful or difficult to revisit them, but doing so might remind you of the less glamorous side of alcohol. There was likely a bad time before there was a choice to get sober. At the moment, alcohol still feels like something you have control over. But the choice to avoid alcohol doesn\u2019t have to be thought of as being forced to have less fun at a party. You could also think of it as an opportunity to intentionally choose a path that leads you and the ones you love away from familiar pain. And that is a brave choice to make.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2014SK<\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

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

Two weeks ago, I started dating a person who I\u2019ve become very fond of. He is intellectual, hardworking, and pragmatic, characteristics that all serve as a nice balance to my rather impulsive and emotionally driven tendencies. He respects my body and continually reminds me to never apologize for saying no. I have never felt so seen. I adore him, I do. But holy shit, I am so scared! I am scared of all of this being way too good to be true. As a black woman, I\u2019ve always felt inadequate. It\u2019s honestly a bit jarring to jump from the state of feeling rejected to the state of feeling admired. Poets, please guide me to some words that can fuel me with bravery as I learn to accept romance and all of its wonderful gifts.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

\u2014Newly Seen<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Newly Seen,<\/span><\/p>\n

Thank you for sharing this love with us! I am so happy to hear that you have found someone who is making you feel seen and loved in the way you deserve. You mentioned that you are used to feeling inadequate, and I immediately thought of\u00a0<\/span>\u201c<\/span>Black Girl Magic<\/span><\/a>\u201d<\/span> by Mahogany Browne, which begins, <\/span><\/p>\n

They say you aint posed to be here, Black girl
\n<\/span>You aint posed to wear red lipstick
\n<\/span>You aint posed to wear high heels
\n<\/span>You aint posed to smile in public
\n<\/span>You aint posed to smile nowhere, Black girl<\/span><\/p>\n

You aint supposed to be more than a girlfriend
\n<\/span>You aint supposed to get married
\n<\/span>You aint supposed to want no dream that big
\n<\/span>You aint supposed to dream at all<\/span><\/p>\n

You aint supposed to do nothing but carry babies
\n<\/span>And carry weaves
\n<\/span>And carry felons
\n<\/span>And carry families
\n<\/span>And carry confusion
\n<\/span>And carry silence
\n<\/span>And carry a nation\u2014but never an opinion
\n<\/span>Cause you aint supposed to have nothing to say,
\n<\/span>Black girl, unless it\u2019s a joke<\/span><\/p>\n

Cause
\n<\/span>You aint supposed to love yourself Black girl
\n<\/span>You aint supposed to find nothing worth saving in all that brown<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Mahogany\u2019s poem begins with voices that are aimed directly at black girls and women to make them feel inadequate. (You can watch the author perform her poem here<\/a>.) If these are the kinds of voices that have been coming toward you your whole life, of <\/span>course<\/span><\/i> your new love feels too good to be true, of <\/span>course<\/span><\/i> you feel undeserving. It is so hard to drown those horrible voices out. I am so glad that you have found a partner who seems dedicated to reminding you of your shine. You deserve a love that is as brilliant and appreciative as you are. I know that a new relationship by itself is not enough to undo a lifetime of negative messages. (Nor should the burden of that be entirely on his shoulders!) I know that a stranger writing to you through the internet to say, \u201cYou are worthy of all this love!\u201d is also not enough. But on days when you start to feel unsure, between your man, your friendly neighborhood Poetry Rx columnist, and Mahogany\u2019s poem, perhaps we can all remind you:<\/span><\/p>\n

You are a Black girl worth remembering
\n<\/span>And you are a threat knowin\u2019 yourself
\n<\/span>You are a threat loving yourself
\n<\/span>You are a threat loving your kin
\n<\/span>You are a threat loving your children
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Magic
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Flyy
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Brilliance
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Wonder
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Shine
\n<\/span>You Black Girl Bloom
\n<\/span>You Black Girl, Black Girl!<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

*<\/p>\n

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

My neighbor, whom my family and I are close with, was recently given only a few months to live due to an unusually aggressive cancer. My sister is painting a portrait of his cat to give to him and I don\u2019t have any artistic talent. I have a deep love of poetry and literature and feel like I could give him some poetry to read in his last days. He is taking it very well and seems to have accepted it and is at peace with it. Do you have any recommendations for poems to give to dying friends?<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Sincerely,<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Compassionate Neighbor<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Compassionate Neighbor, <\/span><\/p>\n

You may have heard that last week we lost a poetry titan, Mary Oliver. The poetry community has mourned her by sharing her poems on social media, and by <\/span>writing her tributes<\/span><\/a>. It has been a reassuring reminder that even when a person leaves us, so much of who they are and what they mean to us remains. Mary Oliver wrote beautifully about death, and at first I considered recommending her poem, \u201c<\/span>When Death Comes,<\/span><\/a>\u201d which contains the lines: \u201cWhen it\u2019s over, I want to say all my life \/ I was a bride married to amazement. \/ I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms\u201d as well as the famous line, \u201cI don\u2019t want to end up simply having visited this world.\u201d But this poem strikes me as being more relevant to a person who still has a lot of time left on this earth. For someone whose death is much nearer, I want to share a poem with you that is <\/span>not<\/span> necessarily about dying. It is a short poem called \u201cPraying\u201d which goes: <\/span><\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t have to be
\n<\/span>the blue iris, it could be
\n<\/span>weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
\n<\/span>small stones; just
\n<\/span>pay attention, then patch<\/span><\/p>\n

a few words together and don\u2019t try
\n<\/span>to make them elaborate, this isn\u2019t
\n<\/span>a contest but the doorway
\n<\/span>into thanks, and a silence in which
\n<\/span>another voice may speak.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I love this poem so much, because it works perfectly as a description of praying, but is also excellent advice on how to write a poem. \u201cJust pay attention, then patch a few words together,\u201d feels so honest to my poetic practice. For your neighbor, as he looks back on his life of blue irises or vacant lots or small stones, I hope the end of this poem will resonate with him: this life is not a contest, but a doorway into thanks. If what comes next is silence, then in it, another voice may speak.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2014SK<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Want more? Read earlier\u00a0installments of\u00a0Poetry Rx<\/a>.\u00a0Need your own poem?\u00a0Write to us<\/a>!<\/i><\/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,\u00a0<\/em>The Type, and\u00a0<\/em>All Our Wild Wonder.<\/em><\/p>\n

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

In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx, readers\u00a0write in\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1411,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[33114],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-133009","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-rx"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nPoetry Rx: You Are a Threat Loving Yourself by Sarah Kay<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 24, 2019 \u2013 In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx, readers\u00a0write in\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, 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