Sally Wen Mao: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Inviolacy

 

Tonight, we shrink for no one.

           Tonight, we are afraid of nothing.

                       Not torpedoes, not the long

 

bodies of submarines or tiger sharks

             that circle beneath us. Not wilt, not tornados,

                         not the dark camps moored to erasure.

 

We will reel them in, shear their teeth.

               Their husks stew the sea. Tonight, awaken me

                            from this dream of apple blossoms, we’ll follow

 

the kingfisher downstream, forget what we’re

            confronting. It’s better this way. To mythologize:

                        city of endless crayon, endless sod;

 

boy riding wild horse in Mongolia.

            Chimeras cannot hurt us

                        even if they were once matter, pestle

 

grinding mortar. Even the abattoir

            feels unreal— it’s unlikely that we’ll ever

                        witness: creature turning

 

into meat. The duck hangs whole

            in the restaurant window. We believe

                        it is whole. When we order it plump,

 

it is cut to pieces in the back room.

            Even invincible, we envy the luxury:

                        a room to bleed in, break apart accordingly.

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Sally Wen Mao is the author of Oculus (Graywolf Press, 2019) and Mad Honey Symposium (Alice James Books, 2014). The recipient of an NEA fellowship and a Pushcart Prize, she currently lives in New York. 

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                     Zhang Xiaogang, The Dark Trilogy Fear: Meditation, Sorrow, 1989-1990. Oil and collage on canvas, in three panels.

Comments

[Mary Louise Kiernan]

Whether in Mongolia (boy riding wild horse) or in Manhattan (The duck hangs whole/ in the restaurant window), Sally Wen Mao captures our human nature when she writes "We believe it is whole." The "it" can be so many things, yes?

[Don Berger]

I love the great turns in this poem and the great attention to the world the speaker occupies, the work’s social quality.

And Terence, the 100th poem! Humongous thanks for these pleasures!

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for the comment, Prof. Berger

[David Lehman]

Terrific poem & art. What an eye you have, Mr. Winch.

[Terence Winch]

Well, thank you, David.

[Eileen Estes]

Wonderful

[Chris Mason]

Wonderful, powerful poem. Thank you.

[Peter Kearney]

This striking, surprising poem seems to attack our supposed inviolacy. From the dangers lurking in waters, the poet escapes to the dry land of endless sod. But this solidity will not do; we need a place where we can break apart.

[Kyril Calsoyas]

"Great doubts, deep wisdom....small doubts little wisdom." Tenebrous, tucked, trifling, tricked, troubled, titanic, tangential, tiny, timorous, tinkling monologue. Implications become verifications: water finds its own depth, its path apparently flowing down neurons, still only cloaked will on display.