[Ashley Bowen]

Marriage in the Suicide Garden of North Dakota

“Clinicians are now citing incidents of narcissists coercing their partners to commit suicide as part of the Narcissistic Discard Phase, the last phase of the Narcissistic Trauma Cycle.”

My seasons withered next to you until
dead weather woke me up. Cadaver-cold.
My breath: blue ice garroted off. You’d rattled
my pills and taunted me to take my life
into past tense, balanced a gun between my teeth
to test the weight of better and for worse.
I limped along for years like this, ignoring
the nooses you looped around the rafters,the notes
you slipped into my shirts that read Go Home
until, at last, I woke snow-packed in permafrost.
Winter finches were knitting a nest overhead,
huddling under the hood of one another’s
wing for warmth. Me? I chipped
a trail toward the airport towers and shivered
against the snowfall’s climbing inches. Planes
were crackling over ice and weather. I snapped
myself into my seat, routing south,
flying fast, barely holding on.



ALTERNATE VERSION

Marriage in the Suicide Garden of North Dakota

“Clinicians are now citing incidents of narcissists coercing their partners to commit suicide as part of the Narcissistic Discard Phase, the last phase of the Narcissistic Trauma Cycle.”

My seasons withered next to you until
dead weather woke me up. Cadaver-cold.
My breath: blue ice garroted off. You’d rattled
my pills and taunted me to take my life
into past tense, balanced a gun between my teeth
to test the weight of better and for worse.
I limped along for years like this, ignoring
the nooses you looped around basement rafters,
the notes you slipped into my shirts that read Go Home
until I woke snow-packed in the permafrost.
Winter finches were knitting a nest overhead,
huddling under the hood of one another’s wing for warmth.
Me? I chipped a trail toward the airport towers
and shivered against the snowfall’s climbing inches.
Planes were crackling over ice and weather. I snapped
myself into my seat, flying fast, routing south,
barely holding on to life.

[Mark McDonnell]

My first thought is to wonder why this isn't in metrical, Ashley. It seems, with some small deviation, more or less IP.

Anyway, I'll come back to it. My initial impression is positive and that I want to read it several more times.

Mark

[Glenn Wright]

This poem is chilling, Ashley—pun intended. I really like this piece.
The cold metaphor does double duty, suggesting both the emotional frigidity of the narcissist and the immobilizing numbness of the N caused by his gaslighting.

In line 7 you mention that this has been going on for years. Does the Discard Phase of the Narcissistic Trauma Cycle normally go on that long?

I’m not sure which version I like better. The differences are subtle. The enjambed lines in the first version suggest the N waking up to the horror of her situation and seeking escape rather frantically. I think I like that. I also like Go Home being italicized in the Alternate Version.

In line 10, I wonder if a simile (“as if snow-packed in the permafrost”) might make clearer that the N is not literally buried several feet underground in the permafrost, but is rather unable to escape until she “wakes” at the sight of the birds unselfishly protecting each other from the cold.

The Halloween Spookhouse details (nooses, gun, “Go Home” notes) set an apt tone of creepiness. Fine work!

Glenn

[John Riley]

This is a strong poem about experiences that seem actual. The theme is clear and the message is strong. It doesn't matter to me if there were actual nooses because the situation is so clearly delivered the symbols can be real. My only quibble is the very ending. I'd consider cutting the last line and ending it with "routing south," which says it without saying it while the last line now says it redundantly.

Good poem.

[Ashley Bowen]

Mark: Thank you for reading and responding. Yes, this was originally a sonnet that wasn't working, so I stripped some padded IP lines here and there and posted this in non-met because I thought it worked better that way.

Glenn: Thanks for your feedback. Much appreciated. Much to think about. I'm still waffling on the version to go with. I've tinkered a bit more since I posted this. This is still a work in progress.

John: I'm glad you found something to like here. I'm still trying to get the final line right. Thanks again!

[Nick McRae]

Given the last few you posted I have pretty strong faith in your ability to construct a solid poem, but I wonder if the subject matter of this one might be too strong for some.

If I were to guess I'd think you'd run into this before, but if not, poems that don't uplift or at least remain neutral can be a tough read. I believe to a lot of poets suicide is generally something they don't want to think about.

That doesn't mean it isn't an effective poem, but maybe worth mentioning nonetheless.

[Max Goodman]

What's the purpose of not mentioning the source of the epigraph?

[Ashley Bowen]

Nick: Thanks for reading and responding. As for subject matter, I wonder if subject matter can be a liability to every poem. Someone who might be tired of reading nature poems might be turned off by that. I don't see this one as a suicide poem, but I'm the last person to ask what my own poems mean (honestly). The subject matter could be too much for some. Food for thought.

Max: Purpose? None.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by Ashley Bowen

Nick: Thanks for reading and responding. As for subject matter, I wonder if subject matter can be a liability to every poem. Someone who might be tired of reading nature poems might be turned off by that. I don't see this one as a suicide poem, but I'm the last person to ask what my own poems mean (honestly). The subject matter could be too much for some. Food for thought.

Max: Purpose? None.

I can see that, it's not really a suicide poem. But the imagery can still give that vibe when it's read.

Not so much a critique but yes, food for thought. I put out a book a few years ago and I was shocked at how some people reacted to the poems. But then once I thought about it wasn't overly surprised. For a few of them it was reasons like this. I was just having fun with writing, but to some readers they were too heavy.

[Paula Fernandez]

Ashley--
I'm reading this poem directly after reading your "Cocaine" on the metric forum. I'm really enjoying your work today!

The overall effect of this one for me was a deep sense of relief at the end when the narrator makes their escape. I was genuinely invested and so hopeful. Which is to say, once again, thanks for bringing powerful emotional content. I love it.

I'm especially in love with the little finch couple knitting a nest and holding a wing out to shelter each other. What an image. I'll be holding on to that for a long time.

I think for me the weakest bit is here...

I chipped
a trail toward the airport towers and shivered
against the snowfall’s climbing inches. Planes
were crackling over ice and weather. I snapped
myself into my seat, routing south,
flying fast, barely holding on.

"shivered against the snowfall's climbing inches" feels a bit meh after all the intense actions before (and the darling wrens). As does "Planes were crackling..." Maybe the N needs to get more good guidance from nature here--a friendly goose? Sorry. I know that's not super-helpful.