levelheaded: Declaration

Each of the six sentences that make up Jason Ueda’s “Declaration” begins with one of three pronouns—“We,” “You,” or “I.” The poem as a whole centers on these three words, on the way “you” and “I” act toward one another and how that both informs and is shaped by this “we.”

As the poem begins, we quickly realize that the door allowing us to peek into these private lives is only partially open. What exactly the couple was not “supposed to” do is unclear. The stakes, however, are unmistakably high.

The speaker fears that “memory will squander” any “Declaration” he might make. Even so, he goes on to state his “love even during the horrid / comparisons we make / of ourselves to attrition.” Here, the word “attrition” is especially interesting. Friction is essential to sex (the physical act of love), yet love is also subject to being worn down by the mental and emotional strains on a relationship. At the same time, the word “attrition” suggests the sorrow felt for having sinned. And, in the context of business, “attrition” reminds us that if one member of We, LLC is no longer working, then “you” and “I” are out of a job.

Throughout the poem, Ueda’s lack of specificity welcomes mystery, and the poem becomes akin to a fable with lead characters that are at once particular people and everyman in a setting that feels realistic yet mythical. While “the East / River” may well refer to the body of water in New York City, a river by this name could be anywhere in the world. The line break here calls special attention to the figurative meanings behind the word “East.”  Similarly, a few lines later, “the diseased vibration of apology” brings to mind text messages (very 21st century) while also conjuring the seemingly unending echo of having hurt or been hurt (timeless).

The expressed need for apology helps illustrate the tension between the poem’s two main characters—a tension heightened by the physical distance separating them as shown in line 16 (“You tried to find me for hours”). Even still, the other is trying to connect, an effort that is amplified by the “hours”/“ours” pun. Despite these efforts, the tension only builds, until it finally constrains like “a harness of limitation.”

The poem’s brutally honest ending is an acceptance of the pair’s “incompatible nature”—where two people do not share in each other’s joy. If there’s a silver lining here, it is in the fact that the poem itself, as a “Declaration,” is a statement of truth, and the truth can be liberating.

– The Editors