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Ars Longa: Reading a Poem by Marcia Karp

If Asked, She Says Only

If asked, she says only
       “I am no one.”

Not wily, this answer—
       not wholly.

She says all the eyes
       have closed to her;

Without them she is no one
       to herself.

But it’s only her self
       she has wiled,

For she knows who she is
       and can’t bear it—

She is just who she meant to be—
       beguiling and

Shy of those eyes
       that adore her.


       Then her own
whirl in their tearpools,

       Taking
too long to return,

       So the other
feels lost and uncourted

       And she calls herself
only some no one,

       Blinding
hundreds of eyes

       Which had recognized
someone long since in need of some home.

If Asked, She Says Only is a monumental, heartbroken poem. There are 14 broken lines, or couplets, with a space between the first eight couplets and the final six couplets. The space suggests a volta or turn. The sense of broken lines is enhanced by indentations of the lines. Listen to the repeating cry sound of “i” in these words: I, wily, eyes, wiled, beguiling, shy, eyes, blinding, eyes, recognized. All of these elements are reminiscent of a Petrarchan sonnet, with its 14 lines, octave, sestet, volta, and repetitive rhyme scheme. The Petrarchan sonnet is a monumental form. Marcia Karp breaks the form (gently) and creates a new form that is equally monumental.

But Karp doesn’t stop at mere technical innovation. Her poem traces the courtly Petrarchan love conventions, with an Emily Dickinson twist. Who is she seeing, and who is seeing her? What love is this? This is the love of the broken-hearted solitary soul, whose losses have made her “some no one.” The first words of the brokenhearted song must always be “I am no one” or “I’m nobody.” This powerful allusion evokes shy Emily, who preferred not to be seen. But her preference was not self-induced. The poet wanted to be heard, not by an “admiring bog,” but in conversation with other poets. Sadly, in her lifetime, her poems remained “long since in need of some home.” It is rare even today for poets to converse with an Emily Dickinson poem. Karp does.

Notice how the pattern of indented lines reverses in Karp’s poem. This elegant design seems to point at the break between the octave and sestet, an empty space filled with a turn, a space that contains no one. Just as listening to the repeating “i” sound creates a satisfying musical contrast with the other sounds in the poem, so pausing in the space creates a contrast between no/yes, one/hundreds, blinding/seeing. In this space, Karp shows how a brokenhearted no one becomes whole, by building a monumental poem.