Finale

How you'd begin would never be the same;
at times you'd even face me for a while.
But always, in that drive before you came,
you'd flip me over, finish doggy-style.
Another funny thing: you'd never try
to steal a peek at me when I undressed.
I wondered if you'd rather have a guy,
if that was why you covered up my breasts.
Or maybe I was wrong, and you were straight,
but ex or mama used to yak, yak, yak;
you'd shove my mouth into the pillowcase
to face an uncommunicative back.
I haven't met her yet, your newest friend,
and yet I'd bet my butt about the end.

blank
blank
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This one makes me smile, and not just because it's so matter-of-fact about a sexual topic, or because the diction is so down-to-earth. I love the pillowcase/face rhyme, that just-right word "uncommunicative," met/yet/friend in L13 (lots of assonance here – coincidence, or brilliant matching of sound with sense?), that string of t's in L14 – yet/bet/butt/about – and the fact that the last two words are "the end," which not only wraps things up nicely, but ties in with the title. Oh, and the turn is perfect: "Or maybe I was wrong..."

Now that it's late and I'm tired and grouchy, though, I find I do have a couple of reservations. First, it's yet another bawdy-humor sonnet. An excellent specimen, but what I really admire, and rarely encounter, is a sex sonnet that's actually sexy. Robert Crawford's French Braids , for example (his poem, that is, not his hairdo): it's not explicit, it's all done with suggestion. Maz has a wonderful sonnet I'd have loved to link to, "Hippolyta on a Field of Linen," but now she's tweaking it again. Of course it's unfair to complain that a poem of Type X is not a poem of Type Y.

I also wonder if that faintly judgmental aroma I'm now picking up is just my imagination. Probably. Nevermind. Ignore me.

I really admire this author, but not this sonnet. I really enjoy anal intercourse (Eat kitty litter and die, straight boy!), but I don't enjoy writing or reading about it. Sorry. Rose justly compares it unfavorably to French Braids, and I have no problem making unfavorable comparisons of our efforts to well-known poems, whether on this board or the Deep End, where I have just very favorably compared David Rosenthal to Dick Davis, causing Maz to take umbrage. Bob Crawford and Kate Light are the two sexiest poets of my acquaintance writing, and this, alas, is clever, not sexy.

Ah, I don't think this is meant to be a sexy poem. It's a very clever human poem and very true to the experiences of many women. The last line is very funny and ties up the thoughts in the poem. It's not judgemental but addresses the deep incompatibility found in some sexual encounters. I think it's a classic.
Janet

Huh. I didn't even think anal sex when I read this....doggy-style and anal are different - aren't they?

I agree with Janet.....it's that "shut-up and service me" attitude that kills women who've hooked up with men who just maybe don't have that high of an opinion of the "fairer sex" and look on them more as objects than people. By turning them over on their backs, they deny them their person-hood and turn them into non-entities. All backs tend to look alike, by refusing to look at your partner (most especially when it's consistant behaviour as this poem clearly states) you're demonstrating that you're capable of focusing only on the sex and not on the person you're having sex with - a small nuance, but an important one to a woman who fancies herself to be in love.

Besides when you're the one buried face down in a pillow you can't watch the television.

Lo



[This message has been edited by Laura Heidy-Halberstein (edited May 07, 2008).]

That's right, Lo. You can't watch TV or eat a pastrami sandwich. It's really unfair.

Though I don't think that doggie style invariably denies a woman her personhood, I'll avoid a nuanced discussion of sexual etiquette by pointing out that the speaker of this poem certainly thinks so, or at least, now that the relationship is over, is formulating a bitter complaint to that effect. And she might have a point since he would "flip her over" and force her mouth against the pillow case. It's the force and the disregard of her wishes that makes him a pig.

I'm with the camp that likes this poem. It's really not the least bit sexy or prurient, but more like an Alanis Morrisette rant.

PS-- Like Lo, I didn't think "anal" at all and wondered at first what Tim was talking about. But then I reconsidered the last line and I have to admit there's at least a hint to be found there.

A HINT???

Expensive and exquisite boy,
I have no gold, no jeweled rings,
but can't a poet share the joy
you sell to Generals and Kings?

Swords and sovereigns swiftly pass,
but lease those amber buns to me,
and I'll promise your peerless ass
nine inches of immortality.

--anon

There are hints throughout the poem that the guy would prefer to be having anal intercourse (it seems), since the N. even speculates about it, wondering aloud if he'd rather be with a guy, noticing that he is not interested in watching her undress and also the mention of the covering of the breasts.
The poem definitely (for me) has an air of misogyny about it.
I think it's a pretty good poem if this was what the author was trying to convey. Surely a man who respects and loves a woman would not always prefer doggie-style intercourse and would ask her before flipping her over if she wanted to do it that way. Also, I don't think this is about actual anal intercourse, but the N. wondering if the guy 'he' would prefer that it was.

Anne

[This message has been edited by Anne Bryant-Hamon (edited May 07, 2008).]

I think it's the inevitability of the "turning over" that the speaker mentions here

But always, in that drive before you came,
you'd flip me over, finish doggy-style.

that takes a wheeeee-fun positional variation and turns it into a oh, oh there's something very wrong here weird personality defect.

So, yes, I agree with you, Roger, that it doesn't invariably deny a woman anything - but if it's consistant and if it's necessary to the man's functionability (is that a word?) to cross the finish line, then I do think there's more going on then purely physical positioning.

And just for the record, I still don't read anal sex into this. Not that it matters. It's just an interesting foray into the "what did the author really mean" realm. And wondering if it matters.

Lo


edited to add Cross-posted with Ann...and yeah, I can see a pondering on the possible desire for anal intercourse - but not the act itself having been committed.


[This message has been edited by Laura Heidy-Halberstein (edited May 07, 2008).]

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

See, that's the judgmental thing I was talking about last night. Sexual preferences are not about morality or political correctness. They just are. Some people are just wired one way or another; this makes the light go on, that does not, it's just a physiological reality.

Roger's comment makes sense to me, though -- if he (the character, not Roger) was thoughtlessly ignoring her stated preferences, then yes, he's a pig. But really, we don't even know that for sure.

When I first read this sonnet, I laughed out loud, and I still think it's very good, it's just that the more I thought about it, the more I had doubts. It could be argued that this sonnet is not meant to be thought about quite so much.




[This message has been edited by Rose Kelleher (edited May 07, 2008).]

I think the poem would be more effectively elusive if the line above had not included the gender specific "her" since all the lines that come before seem to be spelling out that the male in this poem has a problem specifically with women in general. But, it remains to be implied that the guy, even though he dislikes women for various possible reasons will continue to plow through more and more failed relationships with them. I like this poem because it speaks to a very prominent problem. There are and there has always been a great number of men in the world who, even though they like having sex with women, don't much like women in general. I think women have a similar/opposite struggle with hatred of men for their resistence to submitting to equality with women. The division of the human race into male and female IS the "curse" (IMO). Somehow there was enmity sown between the sexes from the beginning of Adam's race. Division always causes war, but apparently it was necessary. This poem has taken me into some profound thoughts on the human condition that I'd never considered in this particular light until now. That makes it a great poem for me. I've begun to wonder if homosexuality in both men and women springs more from a desire to be understood and respected as an equal than any other reason. I think it very well may be so.

A-

Rose,

I submit to you that there is not a human being on earth who is not "judgemental" about many things. Sometimes we call it 'opinionated'. Other times, the cry of 'judgemental' goes forth - usually when we hold a differing opinion than the one stated.

For myself, I feel disrespected if a man can only think of me as a sex object or a type of animal. If that makes me judgemental, then okay. That doesn't mean I don't like various sexual positions. But this poem clearly has some anger/disrepect issues implied throughout. It's not just a playful sex poem.

Anne

I was really wowed by this poem when I first read it (and still am)-- such an open, honest and frank perspective, and so well executed. I confess that all the opinions expressed here have forced me to look more closely at certain words and lines to explain why I came to a different conclusion about what I think the poem implies.

I never really took the speaker seriously in her musings about her lover being gay...I just took them as musings and speculation to explain his behavior in bed. Does the behavior result from his being gay? from him having too many previously talk-happy lovers? is he just uncommunicative? a guy who needs to be in control (when he keeps flipping her over, doing it "his" way)? She's looking for some way to explain a consistent pattern of his sexual behavior that she doesn't like. But...I actually find that this reveals as much about the speaker as it does about him. She seems to give him all the control, or allow him to take it, and she never questions him about it or voices her objectiions.

Finale

How you'd begin would never be the same;

I notice he's always initiating sex...not her, which tells me she's waiting for him and giving him control rather than taking it.

at times you'd even face me for a while.
But always, in that drive before you came,
you'd flip me over, finish doggy-style.

She seems unhappy with this behavior -- yet she accepts it for whatever reason and doesn't question it, object to it, or ask for something different.


Another funny thing: you'd never try
to steal a peek at me when I undressed.
I wondered if you'd rather have a guy,
if that was why you covered up my breasts.
Or maybe I was wrong, and you were straight,
but ex or mama used to yak, yak, yak;
you'd shove my mouth into the pillowcase
to face an uncommunicative back.

All these questions she has, and speculation, yet there's no evidence she ever questioned him about any of it. Rather than confronting him or questioning him, she leaves the relationship (that's not stated, though...maybe he left, but if he's getting it his way all the time, why would he?)

I haven't met her yet, your newest friend,
and yet I'd bet my butt about the end.

Is she justifying her own uncommunicative nature here and blaming the end of the relationship on him? If he behaved with HER this way, she assumes he would behave with all women this way. I thought she was in a bit of denial about how her own choices impacted the relationship. To me, "uncommunicative" cuts both ways in this: he didn't seek out her preferences, and she didn't voice her concerns. I'm not sure the author is really making a deep statement here, however...but I enjoyed the humor and thinking about the larger issue of sexual communication.

Anne, I think you misunderstand me. I'm not arguing in favor of treating women like animals or mere sex objects. I'm questioning your assumption that a man who "likes it" a particular way (this way, that way, in an airplane, on a trapeze, whatever) is a misogynist. (At least, that's what I got from your post - sorry if I've misread.) A person's likes and dislikes, IMO, are much more complicated than that. You can't just say to yourself, "Intellectually, morally, I believe such-and-such, so from here on in, I resolve to like sex this way, as it's more compatible with my world view." It just doesn't work that way. That's all I'm saying.

This delighted me when I saw it submitted to '14 by 14', and the other judges no less.
I think it's the "yak, yak, yak" that makes it special.
It's not at all about anal sex, of course; but hubby (in the aftermath) is suspected of having that preference.
I read a comment afterwards by the author: this originated in a poetry class when people were asked to list all the things they would write about and all the things they wouldn't. They were then directed to focus on the latter.
Demonstrates yet again the versatility of the form.

Rose,

Perhaps we are talking past each other. Because it is not the 'doggie syle' sexual position that makes me feel that this poem is about a man who at leasts (dislikes) women. That point is woven throughout the whole poem, as I read it. The N. is speculating and ranting throughout about lack of COMMUNICATION or at least his desire not to "connect", "commune" with her except on a physical level. Perhaps the author will tell us if this is what she was trying to convey or not.

"Yak, yak, yak" is not funny to me - it is a slant against women because they talk more than males. The poem screams, shut up and let's fuck. And I find that insulting. Not the sexual position, Rose - but the dominating spirit coming from the male is for me a turn off. For me, THAT is the characteristic that ruins a man. I realize there are many men in the world like this - and apparently I have anger issues with them :) They can all kiss my ass (if you know what I mean).

Anne

Anne, the narrator is holding up the man as an object of ridicule, and for the very reasons that you dislike him. "Yak yak yak" is the narrator mimicking (what she imagines to be) the man's voice. The poem does not scream "shut up and let's fuck"; the narrator is pointing out that the man is weird because he wants her to shut up and fuck.

John,

You sound very CERTAIN about your opinion. Did you get this from the author of the poem we are discussing? I'm just wondering where such certitude comes from. I've not claimed to be CERTAIN about the author's intent - I've just been telling you how I read this poem.

Maybe those who say we are scrutinizing too much are right. Perhaps the author just dashed it off with the intent of being funny. I mean it did make at least a couple of people laugh. I have a sense of humor. But the poem didn't come across to me as being funny.

Anne

True, but I think he wants her to shut up and fuck because (and this is what N is thinking) that his mother or his ex-wife/girlfriend was always "yak, yak;
yaking." I don't think she's mimicking him at all - only mimicking what she perceives as what his psyche might be rebelling against.

Or maybe I was wrong, and you were straight,
but ex or mama used to yak, yak, yak;

I think there she's saying that maybe she was wrong in thinking he was gay - maybe he only wanted to head off the constant talking he was conditioned to expect from women by his previous relationships with either his mother or his ex.

At least that's my take on it.

Well, Anne, I am certain - that it's my opinion. No better and no worse than yours. You don't find my take persuasive? Okay.

Editing in: Lo, your take is exactly what I was implying when I wrote "the narrator mimicking (what she imagines to be) the man's voice."

[This message has been edited by John Hutchcraft (edited May 07, 2008).]

--That is exactly my understanding of it, Lo.

[This message has been edited by David Anthony (edited May 07, 2008).]

David and Lo, you're letting the ex off too light, but the narrator isn't. She's nailed him to the wall. He has hangups (whatever the source of them) that make him avoid looking at her during sex or even when she's naked. He may not acknowledge his fantasies or understand where they're coming from, so he's still in heterosexual relationships. But the fact is her feminity emasculates him, and the only way he can get off is to hide it.

In the sestet N's saying "maybe I'm wrong and you don't really have a problem with women, you just don't like women who talk. But I doubt it's that--in fact I'd bet my butt on it."

Anne, she had the sense to lose him; she certainly wasn't going to change him by explaining that she'd prefer to do it the other way sometimes.

It's a great poem, nothing but net.

Carol

I've really enjoyed thinking about this poem and reading the interpretations of others.
My initial impression of this piece was that it was like some woman who plops herself down next to me at a party and, instead of chatting about the dip or the view, talks in an offhand way about the strange curve of her boyfriend's dick or the fact that she can't have an orgasm since switching antidepressants. The piece seems both outrageous and intriguing. The tone is know-it-all been-there-done-that jaded but there is more going on. It is a poem where we are forced to think about the situation more than N is. N cannot be trusted. She isn't telling us the whole story. In spite of all her openness, she can only give us one picture -her picture. It's up to us to figure out what's missing.
This seems to me to be the genius of the piece -
N is saying Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
The poet is saying Don't trust this chick for a minute.

What hits me as amazing about this piece is that it can be interpreted on so many levels. Funny, of course. But there's more -an undercurrent of bitterness about men that somehow negates the humor on subsequent readings. But there's more -an underlying comment on women and their present jadedness that somehow negates the bitterness towards men part and deepens our understanding of women's bitterness towards life. I can see why Rose has different takes on this with each reading. And I can understand those who see all the misogyny in the piece- yes, the world is filled with men who hate women.
Marybeth's comments come closest to my interpretation- the poem reveals much more about N than she imagines.
Yet, I'd like to take that further also. The reason N does not ask for explanation or demand equality is that she does not care. This man is as interchangeable to her as she is to him. A bit quirky maybe. But who isn't? The next one will be quirkier, or not. They are in relationships that are post-communication, post-emotion. Although the relationships may start differently,giving the illusion of depth, they all end up the same. The universal 'You' is used brilliantly -it is written to all men, all people.
It is one hell of a post-modern poem. Who wrote this anyway?

Are I reading too much into it? Maybe.
Thanks, Dee

On the sex-o-meter scale, this sonnet is scrotum-shrivelling. I read the doggy-style stuff as a great metaphor for the end of the relationship, the back-side, the rear view, helping the N put the whole thing to bed. The poem actually ‘flips’ the reader over between old and new, beginnings and ends, in its attempt to find conclusion. In fact, I love the way it creates the feeling of being flipped over as N flips through the different ways of reading his behaviour, trying to draw a conclusion. It’s not just the style of sex; it’s her sense that he does not see her, his indifference, his lack of commitment, his absence in the relationship. N is saying ‘you are a shallow, predictable arse-hole’. It’s her way of getting some power back. The controlled, vindictive violence implicit in the couplet is hilarious.

It’s a postcoital postmortem, and a delicious slice of subjectivity. The N is angry and hurt, betrayed, and coping by getting her own back. This is how it often feels, in the end.(!) The sonnet, however, is funny and clever. That’s the genius of this one – you get both these readings at once. It’s complicated, layered, a sardonic sonnet – love it!

I don't want to speak for Our Distinguished Guest, but personally I'd be a little hesitant about offering this one up to him as the best that eratosphere has to offer. And I'm no bluestocking, god knows. I hope that the stewed zucchini sonnet won't go to Cummington either.

I can't speak for Rose, but my common sense tells me that any poem with the name "Richard Wilbur" in the user-name column would be the poems being directed to Richard Wilbur and that any poem with the name "Rose Kelleher" in the user-name column would be the ones being commented on by Rose Kelleher.

Both the "stewed zucchini" sonnet and this one are in the later category.

And personally, I do think this could quite easily fall into the "best Eratosphere has to offer" pile.

Butt that's just me - backwards as I am.

http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif

If this fall into the "best that Eratosphere has to offer" category then we're way beyond help or educating, and I'm no bluestocking either.

Jim

I'm not sure I would interpret the boyfriend as being gay. Seems more like he has intimacy issues. I guess N sees this when she realises it's not her breasts he's covering but her mouth.

I don't think it's that well written though... or revealing. My first reaction is that I've stumbled upon a lover's row that I'm best to stay out of. As a parting shot at the end of a relationship, it works, kinda.

As poetry? Hmmm. Not terrible but I'd agree it's not the best this place has to offer.

Anne:

I have no right but... please don't think that.

Dee: You are reading far too much into it. But I know what you mean.

[This message has been edited by Alexander Grace (edited May 08, 2008).]

Sam, Jim, Wiley, I too cringe at the thought that this or the zucchini might have made its way to Cummington. From Rose's description of posting two letters I cannot tell.

The differing reactions reveal a deep generational divide. Well, two of 14X14's editors are senior to me and they liked Finale. But Richard is another generation back, a poet of profound reticence and decorum, and I hope he didn't see these two poems.

If Rose is the initial judge, Rose IS the judge. I think it's unfair to start worrying about what we think Richard Wilbur will or will not be offended by. Let's just see what happens.

I've been in Rose's position as judge/editor (as have many of us) and I know that you make one friend and a hundred enemies/critics http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif A thankless task.

Whether or not it's his cup of tea, I don't really think that Richard Wilbur needs to be treated like a child and protected from reading this or any other sonnet. Perhaps someone ought to hurry over to his house and set the parental controls on his cable box?

Wilbur writes in an essay that the burden of writing a sonnet these days is that sonnets have such a long history that an educated reader cannot help but judge it against what has come before, and it becomes extra difficult to use the form in a way that is fresh or original. It could be that he would approve of the ingenious solution to the "been there done that" sonnet phenomenon employed by "Finale."

I am senior to most of you (though younger than Mr. Wilbur), and I think this poem is excellent. The zucchini piece, on the other hand, I find embarrassing and tasteless. That is my opinion, for what it's worth, and nobody else has to agree with it.

If Mr. Parnassus gets another mouse aren't we expecting him to post and read here unfiltered? Maybe it's best he doesn't get another mouse if we need to protect him from seeing things that might offend or which aren't good enough for his attention. In that case I suggest we stop pretending he's going to appear and speak for himself in the first place.

What Eratosphere should be more worried about is its overwhelming preoccupation with reaching a consensus on what is "the best that Eratosphere has to offer." In my opinion.

Carol

Seconding Robert, and I'm not second-guessing Rose. I just talked to Richard, and he is typing up his observations on the six sonnets. I'm sure Rose will post them as soon as she receives them by mail.

By your own admission, Tim, your "Case Notes" includes
child molestation, homosexuality in the boy scouts, alcoholism, drug addiction and psychotherapy - and I'm sure Mr. Wilbur is well acquainted with all of your poetry.
http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtm...ML/001624.html

Why would it be permissible to mention those things around a man of "another generation" and not these things?

The zucchini poem may be more graphic (although this one is not) - but honestly, isn't a person's own imagination the most graphic thing around? I would imagine Mr. Wilbur has as imaginative an imagination as anyone around here.

As for a generational divide - I really don't see it. We're all pretty much the same age, aren't we?

I'm with RC - it's Rose's call - you picked her to do it and you picked well. Trust her.

Lo






[This message has been edited by Laura Heidy-Halberstein (edited May 08, 2008).]

For at least a day, since I first became acquainted with 'Cummington', I did not associate it with being a place name, but, perversely, completely assumed we were talking about Collington. Stephen Collington. And wondered why everyone seemed so concerned about him, and only him, being exposed to poems of a salacious nature.

Now, it is all so mundane. And disappointing.

Quote from introductory thread: Rose Kelleher, whose first book was just so deservedly awarded Waywiser's Anthony Hecht Prize by Wilbur, will host this year's bake-off. In reading her manuscript I was pretty well gobsmacked by the number of first rate sonnets in the book, and so was Dick.

I'm with Lo. I chose wisely.

I have been known to stand on chairs and scream.

Kinky

How about if a moderator edits the words "CONTENT WARNING" into the subject line? Then anyone who reads this sonnet will be doing so at his or her own risk.

In answer to your question, Tim and Sam:

In the first packet I sent to Mr. Wilbur, I included the following sonnets:

Fist
Caravel
The Pick-up Artist in Spring
Opening a Jar of Dead Sea Mud
Attention

I also included these two, with a note saying I was torn between them:

Food
I'll Call Him Art

and this one, with a note saying it wasn't eligible, but that I loved it and thought he might enjoy it:

the sirens answer

In my second letter, I included the updated final six:

Fist
Caravel
The Pick-up Artist in Spring
Opening a Jar of Dead Sea Mud
Attention
Barcelona (I explained in the Barcelona thread my reason for choosing this one over the other two.)

So the real risk here is that I've confused Mr. Wilbur with my dithering.

I'm sorry you don't approve of all my choices, but I'm doing the best I can. My taste is what it is. And if I listened overmuch to what others said, I would never have written a second poem.

In any case, the fact that Mr. Wilbur seems to have liked my collection indicates to me that he is not the type to have fainting fits over a little impropriety.


[This message has been edited by Rose Kelleher (edited May 08, 2008).]

Not my cuppa. Thumbs down.

Jim wrote:
Yeah, I had the same confusion going on in my mind. I think Richard Wilbur can handle this poem. I do hope he was spared the "squash stew" poem, though. I thought it was just vulgar. I mean, it is fine and dandy if people want to 'do it' with vegetables, but please just don't make me read about it, okay? Or as my kids would say... "Get a room!".

Anne