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Incarnadine

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Mary Szybist

February 2013

Alyse Bensel

Mary Szybist’s second poetry collection, Incarnadine, traces the ordinary and the divine in well-lit poems engaged in lyrical narrative. Although initially read as quiet, introspective meditations, these poems claim larger historical ground through interactions with and dissolutions of male-centric texts, including those of Nabokov, George W. Bush, and Byrd, and well-known female figures. With strong representations of Biblical female figures that further complicate the lineage and significance of women, specifically the Virgin Mary, Incarnadine leads the reader through a nuanced interpretation of gender roles and expectations.

Mary Szybist’s second poetry collection, Incarnadine, traces the ordinary and the divine in well-lit poems engaged in lyrical narrative. Although initially read as quiet, introspective meditations, these poems claim larger historical ground through interactions with and dissolutions of male-centric texts, including those of Nabokov, George W. Bush, and Byrd, and well-known female figures. With strong representations of Biblical female figures that further complicate the lineage and significance of women, specifically the Virgin Mary, Incarnadine leads the reader through a nuanced interpretation of gender roles and expectations.

Numerous speakers fixate on Mary and her role throughout the development of Christianity and religious culture. The angel Gabriel speaks to her in Szybist’s “Long after the Desert and Donkey,” telling her: “. . . I loved how dull you were. Given a bit of bark or the buzz / of a bright green fly, you’d smile / for hours.” Filled with regret, Gabriel continues on:

Already it’s hard to remember
how you used to comb your hair or how you
tilted your broad face in green shade.

Now what seas, what meanings
can I place in you?

This sense of frustration and longing is always present in the collection, turning to obsession in “Hail,” where the speaker confesses: “. . . Even now I can’t keep from / composing you, limbs and blue cloak // and soft hands.” The speaker remains self-reflective:

Here I am,

having bathed carefully in the syllables
of your name, in the air and sea of them, the sharp scent

of their sea foam. What is the matter with me?

The final lines of the poem, “. . . Mary, I am still / for you, I am still a numbness for you,” represent an ever-present turn toward constant reflection and awareness while being unable to abandon ritual.

A series of “annunciations” intersperses the collection, prompting the reader to closely examine ideas of forced domesticity. In “Annunciation: Eve to Ave,” a sonnet true to form, Eve addresses the reader in her developing relationship with Adam, noting: “And when I learned that he was not a man— / bullwhip, horsewhip, unzip, I could have crawled / through thorn and bee” as she remains “quiet as / eagerness—that astonished, dutiful fall.” The soft, almost sensual language blurs with an implied forced aggression. Similarly, “Annunciation as Right Whale with Kelp Gulls” draws from BBC News reports of gulls feeding on whales as they emerge from the ocean. A steadfast voice describes the whale as “tender, pockmarked, full / of openness” while the gulls “eat her alive. For they take mercy on others and show them the way.” This subtle undercurrent of Biblical language and scripture permeates many other poems.

With a clear thread that tries to piece together and understand female figures in past and present political climates, Incarnadine demonstrates a deft use of language and voice while constructing a fully realized collection. Szybist has carefully approached potentially volatile and politically squeamish topics by linking them to the personal, showing how poetry interacts with and reacts to these deep historical and contemporary chasms of the rights and representations of women in religion, literature, and society.

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