{"id":172618,"date":"2026-01-13T11:00:22","date_gmt":"2026-01-13T16:00:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=172618"},"modified":"2026-01-13T16:47:42","modified_gmt":"2026-01-13T21:47:42","slug":"making-of-a-poem-millicent-borges-accardi-good-tank-farms-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2026\/01\/13\/making-of-a-poem-millicent-borges-accardi-good-tank-farms-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Making of a Poem: Jana Prikryl on \u201cDover Calais\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"

The English Channel. Photograph by Markus Trienke, via Wikimedia Commons<\/a>. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0<\/a>.<\/p><\/div>\n

For our series Making of a Poem, we\u2019re asking poets and translators to dissect the poems they\u2019ve contributed to our pages. Jana Prikryl\u2019s \u201cDover Calais<\/a>\u201d\u00a0appears in our new Winter issue, no. 254.<\/em><\/p>\n

How did this poem start for you? Was it with an image, an idea, a phrase, or something else?<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In the most basic sense it started with an implicit, unstaged scene from King Lear<\/i>\u2014Cordelia\u2019s flight from England with her new husband, France, after she\u2019s been banished by her father. I\u2019d been circling Lear<\/i> for about a year at that point, writing dramatic monologues from approximately Cordelia\u2019s point of view, based on what she experiences in the play. (She experiences quite a lot, even if most of it is only reported by other characters.) I guess more specifically it began with an image of Cordelia falling into the water as her ferry crosses the English Channel. As I wrote these monologues, I wasn\u2019t really interested in making up plot, making up fresh scenes for her to go through\u2014I was trying more to eavesdrop on her language as the play unfolds, but curiously her language often made things happen. That image of her falling in hit me like a memory, which may be why I felt able to write about it, and why the poem opens with that blunt declaration, \u201cI fell in once \u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Were you thinking of any other poems or works of art while you wrote this poem?<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I was reading and rereading Shakespeare\u2019s other plays, and a big pile of Shakespeare criticism\u2014aside from the big fish like Bradley and Frye and Kermode, important to me were Stanley Cavell, A. D. Nuttall, Germaine Greer, Lukas Erne\u2014as well as British poets and writers I\u2019d missed in my youth (among others, Anne Finch, George Crabbe, Sebastian Evans, Alice Meynell, George MacBeth, David Gascoyne, V. S. Naipaul) \u2026 All this British stuff, because, ultimately, the monologues allowed me to ponder my relationship to the English language, the British polity and powerhouse, any powerhouse. I came to English artificially, even performatively. My family arrived in Canada as refugees from Czechoslovakia (after a stint in Austria) when I was six\u2014which means this language that feels like the stuff I\u2019m made of possessed me over several years that included lots of disorientation and schoolyard bullying\u2014so I think I was trying to get down to the root where consciousness springs up under pressure from conflict and pain and power.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

How did writing the first draft feel to you? Did it come easily, or was it difficult to write? (Are there hard and easy poems?)<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It came in fits and starts; I wrote the manuscript early every morning before my son woke up, and some sessions lasted an hour or two, others a few minutes. I was building these long monologues by accretion, which felt a bit like standing over a void, because writing fiction is so foreign to me. I needed each line of iambic pentameter to sound right in order to justify, to give solidity to, the move farther out across this bridge that was not yet fastened on the other side. A very good morning meant writing one entire stanza (seven lines) or a decent portion of one. Often I backtracked and revised when new lines wouldn\u2019t form.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

With previous poems, I’ve rarely started with an episode or an image cooked up in advance that I then tried to convey to the reader, like a waiter bringing out a dish (though I reread Larkin\u2019s poems around this time, to remind myself of how much richness this approach can produce). My (my?) dialogue with language usually shapes \u201cwhat happens\u201d in the poem. So the challenge of \u201cDover Calais\u201d was that I did know something in advance\u2014the story of Cordelia literally going overboard\u2014yet I needed to tell it such that the telling came first, delivered me into the space of unknowing where I\u2019m able to write.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When did you know this poem was finished? Were you right about that? Is it finished, after all?<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There was an earlier, briefly \u201ccompleted\u201d version that looked quite different, and I knew it wasn\u2019t working\u2014it kept sliding off the page. One of the things I\u2019d decided in advance was the form of these monologues. Each would be fourteen stanzas long, which created pressure as I approached the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth\u2014would I be able to meet that moment?!\u2014and often the writing involved going back and cutting lines that didn\u2019t wear right, restitching certain passages, and clearing more space to play with near the end. With \u201cDover Calais\u201d the ending started to work when I made the last few stanzas more specific, implicating myself and my family\u2019s story more personally\u2014it’s a turn toward a more lyric impulse\u2014so that in some sense Cordelia\u2019s feelings could find new situation, new form. Yet the very last stanza is almost the same as in the earlier, wrong draft. I guess I\u2019d nailed the mood early on, but I needed to get there by a different route.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

As to whether the poem is finished after all\u2014I think this one is, but as I wrote these monologues, one of the things I kept finding is that, in some Platonic sense, \u201cthe poem\u201d is never finished. It\u2019s as if you were pulling sand from the ocean floor, and you could grab a bigger or a smaller handful, but there\u2019s no end to the stuff you could pull up, and one of the things the poem asks of you (the writer) is how to deal with the necessary stopping<\/i>, whether to make that stillness formal or intimate, how to signal that there\u2019s always more to say, whether a more formal closure might imply endless ramification, or a more intimate, spoken voice creates a better echo \u2026 So eventually, of course, you have to start a new poem.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jana Prikryl\u2019s fourth book of poems,\u00a0<\/em>The Channel,\u00a0will be published in summer 2026 by Faber & Faber in the UK and in fall 2026 by Norton in the U.S.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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