WITCHGRASS
Something
comes into the world unwelcome
calling disorder, disorder—
If you hate me so much
don't bother to give me
a name: do you need
one more slur
in your language, another
way to blame
one tribe for everything—
as we both know,
if you worship
one god, you only need
one enemy—
I'm not the enemy.
Only a ruse to ignore
what you see happening
right here in this bed,
a little paradigm
of failure. One of your precious flowers
dies here almost every day
and you can't rest until
you attack the cause, meaning
whatever is left, whatever
happens to be sturdier
than your personal passion—
It was not meant
to last forever in the real world.
But why admit that, when you can go on
doing what you always do,
mourning and laying blame,
always the two together.
I don't need your praise
to survive. I was here first,
before you were here, before
you ever planted a garden.
And I'll be here when only the sun and moon
are left, and the sea, and the wide field.
I will constitute the field.
***
Hello Friends,
Today's poem is from Louise Glück's (say "Glick") Pulitzer Prize-winning collection The Wild Iris (1992). The collection is a series of persona poems, each written from the point of view of a different flower or plant, and often touching on the relationship between people, the natural world, and a god.
If the witchgrass of this poem is "I", who does that make the poet? Would you say that the poet is also the "I"?
Or
is the poet the gardener? Is the page a field? Are the words the flowers or weeds? Does that leave the reader somewhere between the poet and a god?
Or is a god the gardener? If a god is the gardener, is Eden in play here? If so, would Adam and Eve be part of the same tribe, or different tribes? Would you read the persona voice differently if The Wild Iris were written by Louis Glück instead of Louise? Is the voice of any flower feminized by virtue of being a flower?
Who is included in "you"? Does "your language" mean that, if you can read
this poem (in English), you are part of "you"? Or if you can read this
poem in any written language, human language, are you part of "you"? Is
the poet a part of the "you"? If the poet's you, who does that make you?
One last note: If you were to print this poem out on a single
long sheet of paper and fold it in half, the line at the crease would be
"a little paradigm." The line left alone at the end would be "I will
constitute the field."
Ellen
Labels: NPM