In 1956, poet Elizabeth Bishop, one of the great influences in my intellectual life, published “Sestina” in The New Yorker. I occasionally riffle through an anthology of American poetry in the mornings, and, earlier this week, found myself captivated by this poem, which I had read in high school and then studied fairly intensively in college. On this most recent visitation, I was struck by many second findings. Will you look closely with me?
This is an evocative portrait of domestic grief. Some tragedy has happened, but we can only guess at what, and the poem invites us to think about the ways we disclose — or do not disclose — loss. In the first stanza, we meet a gentle woman shielding her sorrow from her young granddaughter. The grandmother quietly tends to the fire, prepares tea, tidies her kitchen, and reads from an Almanac — all the while, “laughing and talking to hide her tears.” Meanwhile, the child anthropomorphizes her surroundings, finding sadness in everything: she sees “the teakettle’s small hard tears” and draws a man “with buttons like tears.” Her way of reading the room, of projecting her inner hurt onto the familiar silhouette of the kitchen, is heartbreaking.
The poem is a scene of tenderness but also profound disconnect, as both figures are secluded in their grief. I found myself touched by the characters’ parallel but unshared observation that grief has been predestined in their lives. Early in the poem, we learn the grandmother feels her sorrow was foretold, but in a way “only known” to her; later in the poem, the child “secretly” watches as “little moons fall down like tears / from between the pages of the almanac” onto her crayon drawing, the almanac’s way of saying: “Time to plant tears.” Despite their twin griefs, the women are unable to connect, or console. There is important context here: Bishop’s father passed away when she was one, and her mother was institutionalized for mental illness when she was five; she was in turn raised by her grandparents. It is difficult not to see the poem as a reflection of those early, devastating days without her mother, and the foreboding that she would not see her parents again. The poem closes on the child “drawing another inscrutable house” — an early capture of the artist exploring her sadness through portraiture.
The poem’s form is brilliant. Bishop uses a sestina, a complex, rigid poetic form from the 12th century consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoi. The final word of each line is repeated in a different order in each stanza. This is highly technical prosody, and in less-skilled hands, the form can feel repetitive, forced, clunky, even dull. But Bishop was a master at working with the constraint of traditional poetic forms. Between “Sestina” and “One Art,” one gets the distinct impression that she was at her best kneading emotion into a predetermined shape–trimming, shaping the rawness of her lived experience to the arbitrary contours of poetic convention. In the case of “Sestina,” the repetition of the six end words — house, grandmother, child, stove, almanac, tears — gives the scene an intimate, even cozy domesticity. At the same time, the forced repetition of words reifies the sense that things have been truncated, clipped, quieted, suppressed. We are haunted by what is not able to be said. We are preoccupied by what is just out of frame: death, alienation, orphaning, the big emotions that surround them. The form’s repetition of words also dovetails with the theme of predestination. We know what is coming, but we don’t know how it will feel, or come together. Interestingly, Bishop initially titled the poem “Early Sorrow” but published it as “Sestina,” which suggests she wanted to focus on the shape: the form that grief can take, the means by which we learn to compress, or suppress, emotion.
What else jumped out at you today?
A few of the the themes from this poem, and from my reading of it, that might be good journal prompts for today:
What might be a title, and an alternate title, for this month of my life?
What constraints am I working within in my daily life? How are these helping or hamstringing me?
What is “in frame” versus “out of frame” today?
Post-Scripts.
+What made you lean forward this week?
+On pursuing English as a discipline.
+There is something special — something hallowed, and holy — about the friendships of girlhood.
Shopping Break.
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
+Obsessed with Tuckernuck’s new cashmere cardigans. The shape, the buttons, the colors!
+Selling me on wide-leg, moss green cords…(Look for less with J. Crew!)
+Hill House’s fall launch yesterday brought us lots of goodies — this equestrian toile pattern sold out immediately last year and they brought it back in a cute navy. I’d style it like this. Also love this jacket, this fair isle cardi, and this plaid mini.
+This baby coat is beyond adorable — I can’t even! One of the more ridiculous things I bought both of my babies — quilted Burberry coats. I did find them second hand on TRR (one available here!) and they were SO CUTE and subsequently passed down to little cousins/friends, but this Old Navy is much more wallet friendly and just as precious.
+This coated chocolate brown skirt is en route to me. Love the idea of pairing with brown suede boots (look for less with these)!
+Clever, compact way to pack medicines for travel. And a clever, compact way to pack detergent if staying at an AirBnB!
+Zara has really cute satin heels out right now — love these pop of red ones and these dramatic cornflower blue ones.
+Linnea just sent me a bunch of fall candles — eee! I was thrilled to see one of their Embers included in the package, because this is the candle I burned for much of last fall/winter. Smells a lot like Diptyque’s Feu De Bois but about half the price. I’m currently burning the Cardamom one in my studio, and it smells so cozy. Makes me want a chai tea latte! (You can get 10% off Linnea with code MAGPIE10).
+I own multiple of these popovers, and love the new red option!
+Julia Amory just released a very chic dressy skirt for fall in silk dupioni. I love it in the marigold color. Great with a crisp white button down, simple shell, sleeveless knit, etc! JEN-15 gets you 15% off.
+Cute chocolate brown suede flats for under $100.
+This brand has recreated vintage school logos — LOVE this UVA sweatshirt! More school insignias available here. Good idea for a gift!
+You know I love a polo sweater!
+How do we feel about shopping end of season sales? This Posse one is worth a look. This column dress is sophisticated simplicity at its finest, and I adore this splashy green.
Another English major here. Honestly, if not for the expense I’d go back to university tomorrow and do all the English courses I couldn’t cram into my degree, just for fun!
“little moons fall down like tears / from between the pages of the almanac” – for me this is the stand out line. It recalls imagery of a woman’s world falling apart, piece by piece – a different permutation of grief. Followed by “time to plant” tears – ie, move forward, shoulder our burdens and persist, grow, make good from the tragic. Really an evocative portrayal of what women do every day, holding worlds together, holding emotion and space for others, and while also making tragedy and grief productive by planting the seeds that help grow worlds big and small (our own, our children’s, our community’s).
Thank you for this invitation Jen, it was so nice to switch on this part of my brain for a few moments!
Strongly agree – I’d go back to school in a heartbeat if it weren’t for expense! I would specifically take more poetry, and more Gothic novel — proto-types for the modern thriller hehe — if it were all for fun.
That line about the moons falling down like tears arrested me, too. It’s such a surrealist image in an otherwise plain text poem, you know? Gorgeous.
Love your reading of the way women hold things together. I had initially read the grandmother and grandchild as isolated in their grief, but you’ve also made me see it as the grandmother trying to shield / uplift her young granddaughter, trying to hold the universe together as she prepares tea, cleans the home, etc. It sort of reminds me of that Salinger quote, “She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there, leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.”
Thanks for weighing in with your reading!
xx
I was an English major with a Poetry concentration in college and have always loved sestinas. This is a beautiful one!
Incredible! Any other favorites? xx