Quotidian
Skim would seem a flimsy barrier
cut by paper sometimes.
Yet I’m deep within it
like a girl banished to a tree house in a foreign forest.
And you are sequestered, wrapped in our common covering.
Though I resist story, its peak and deceptive denouements
where a stranger makes a new planet home,
a fish irrevocably shuns shore,
I give you “I said”
in the font of my hands.
Your reply, the echo of this mouth
| Nancy Devine |
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levelheaded: Quotidian
Nancy Devine’s poem “Quotidian” focuses on language itself, pointing out the inescapability of this ingrown tool and calling for slower, deeper interaction with it.
When we reach the end of the first line, our attention returns to the word “Skim,” the sonic sibling of “Skin.” “Skin” would fit the line in a more literal, expected manner. Devine’s choice of “Skim,” especially as the first word of the poem, indicates her demand that we consider language—that everyday vehicle—carefully. The next two lines go on to protest against skimming with more interplay between “Skim” and “Skin.”
In line six, the speaker offers no reason behind her resistance to story, but given the context of the poem we can guess that she doesn’t believe in the reliability of its material: words. She describes their denouements as “deceptive” and introduces two personal, resonant examples where words proved themselves misleading. The final act in the poem—the speaker giving a “you” the phrase “‘I said’ / in the font of my hands”—rings of risk. Despite her doubting the capabilities of language, here the speaker attempts communication with “you.”
The last line includes three speech words: “reply,” “echo,” and “mouth.” The poem ends openly, with no punctuation, hinting at the continuation of the story between the speaker and a “you” who could be someone specific, or just about anybody.
– The Editors
