{"id":135873,"date":"2019-04-25T11:18:15","date_gmt":"2019-04-25T15:18:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=135873"},"modified":"2019-04-25T12:15:49","modified_gmt":"2019-04-25T16:15:49","slug":"poetry-rx-an-iv-dripping-into-something-already-dead","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/04\/25\/poetry-rx-an-iv-dripping-into-something-already-dead\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Rx: An IV Dripping into Something Already Dead"},"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,\u00a0Kaveh Akbar is on the line.<\/i><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

\u00a9 Ellis Rosen.<\/p><\/div>\n

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

I\u2019m a young artist and writer\u2014twenty-two, just graduated, and starting out on a professional career. I\u2019m having some success: a few group shows, a couple publications, and a few readings in small spaces. For this, I am incredibly grateful. I try to celebrate these accomplishments and not continue to fall into the trap of berating myself for \u201cnot doing enough.\u201d That being said, last night, a close friend and I read at an event to which four people showed up, the host of the series included. I got a lot of apology texts, and I understand. I, too, have had hard days and not been able to show up for other people. But the number of these excuses, and the silence, from a great number of other close friends has been a little disappointing.<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve got a few solid friends that are forever supportive, but they\u2019re spread across continents now. I am grateful for all of these people, too, but how do I celebrate my accomplishments when the people around me don\u2019t seem interested in celebrating with me?<\/em><\/p>\n

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

Forced to Toot My Own Horn\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Tooting,<\/p>\n

I\u2019m cringing reading your note\u2014I have given so many readings to empty rooms, to rooms where everyone was watching a TV or talking over me, rooms where audiences were absent or ambivalent or, worst of all, openly hostile to my presence. It\u2019s part of the deal for most of us, and I promise you, as much as it stings in the moment, it will become your superpower. You will never be a writer who takes their audience for granted, one who gets onstage and half-heartedly drones through twenty minutes of material while your audience furtively checks their phones. Surely you\u2019ve been to such readings\u2014readings where an author carries themselves as if they\u2019re doing the room a favor by the sheer fact of being present. What a blessing that this will never be you!<\/p>\n

Today, I offer you W. S. Merwin\u2019s poem<\/a> for his teacher John Berryman:<\/p>\n

I had hardly begun to read
\nI asked how can you ever be sure
\nthat what you write is really
\nany good at all and he said you can\u2019t<\/p>\n

you can\u2019t you can never be sure
\nyou die without knowing
\nwhether anything you wrote was any good
\nif you have to be sure don\u2019t write<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It\u2019s a stirring remembrance and a perfect reminder that the external factors\u2014publications, prizes, praise from friends\u2014are unsustainable and out of your hands. All you control is what you make. That\u2019s a clean-burning fuel. The more you can orient the joy of your creative process in making and having made, the more sustainable your practice becomes. All the praise, the readings, the audiences will become bonus occasions for gratitude, built on top of the bedrock gratitude for writing itself.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

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

For the past few years, I\u2019ve had an intense emotional and physical attraction to someone who is not my partner. Recently, I brought this up with my crush\u2014it turned out he felt the same way\u2014and we agreed that the best thing to do was to stay friends because he has moved away and I am with someone. We spent too long dancing around each other, and now it\u2019s too late. I thought having that conversation would bring closure, but at least for me, it\u2019s been painful. Please send any poems to help me come to terms with being here, in a place I love but where memories of him are everywhere, poems to help me feel at peace with knowing we missed a chance, perhaps, of something.<\/em><\/p>\n

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

Bad Timing<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Bad Timing,<\/p>\n

I give you Peter Twal\u2019s \u201cThe Moral Kicks In<\/a>.\u201d Twal writes:<\/p>\n

Patron saint of stifling
\nanger on the rocks\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Patron saint of politely\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 melting into this tomato\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 soup a spoonful at a time
\n& we speak\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 in fortune cookie all night\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0The next dish, a ventilator\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0An IV\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 dripping into something
\nalready dead<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It sounds to me like your current relationship with your partner may also be \u201can IV dripping into something\u2009\/\u2009already dead.\u201d If you\u2019ve been harboring feelings for another, if you\u2019ve confirmed those feelings are reciprocated, if you\u2019ve spoken with your crush but not your partner about the situation, it sounds to me like you are, at least unconsciously, checked out of your current relationship. It\u2019s not fair to your partner to keep up the facade, nor is it fair to you to neglect what has clearly become an overwhelming infatuation.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Dear Poets,\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

My father was diagnosed with cancer a year and a half ago. His treatment was successful, and he recovered after surgery and cycles of chemotherapy. But shortly after the treatment, he went back to consuming tobacco, a root cause of the cancer he recovered from. He is incorrigible and far from being cognizant of how dangerous this can be. We come from a place where community rehabilitation doesn\u2019t exist. My mother and my family are stifled and helpless. We love him, but his adamance and negligence are breaking us down. Do you know of any poems that could help keep me going through this distress\u2014words that remind me to be headstrong and find a way out?\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Thanks,\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Headstrong for Papa<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Headstrong for Papa,<\/p>\n

I\u2019m happy to hear that your father\u2019s treatment was successful\u2014I can\u2019t imagine that experience was easy for any of you. For you, I offer Melissa Stein\u2019s \u201cAnthem<\/a>\u201d:<\/p>\n

We were all in love
\ncontinually. Bless
\nour little hearts,
\nsmoking and drinking
\nand wrecking things.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I think about that line often, the little heart \u201csmoking and drinking and wrecking things.\u201d That\u2019s a beautiful phrase for the terrible truth of addiction\u2014there\u2019s nothing you can say, no matter how emotional or rational or true, that will cure your father\u2019s addiction for him, and there\u2019s also nothing you can say, no matter how frustrated or tired or thoughtless, that\u2019ll make it any worse. Addiction is its own disease, a storm contained entirely within the bottle of your father\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n

The only way your father can address his addiction is to decide for himself that it\u2019s time. You say there are no community rehabilitation resources near you, but you might be able to point him toward smokefree.gov<\/a>, which offers resources to build an individualized tobacco cessation plan, or an app like MyQuit Coach<\/a>, which offers personalized plans and also badges and achievements. At the end of it all, though, will be your father, left to make his own decisions. You can be present for him, a resource and encourager\u2014but for your own health, you need to disabuse yourself of the notion that you can singlehandedly save his.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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

Kaveh Akbar\u2019s poems have appeared recently in\u00a0<\/em>The\u00a0New<\/span>\u00a0Yorker<\/span>,<\/em>\u00a0Poetry,<\/em>\u00a0t<\/em>he<\/em>\u00a0New<\/span>\u00a0York Times,<\/em>\u00a0the\u00a0<\/em>Nation,\u00a0and elsewhere. His first book is\u00a0<\/em>Calling a Wolf a Wolf. Born in Tehran, Iran, he teaches at\u00a0Purdue<\/span>\u00a0University and in the low-residency M.F.A. programs at Randolph College and Warren Wilson College.<\/em><\/p>\n

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

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