Winter’s Bite
I can’t seem to feel
the leaves and green
I yearn for the cold
the deep bitterness
the deep brightness
of winter
winter
winter
bite me
please
I want to bite back
– Marika Hanson
So much longing in this lively little poem. One of the great joys of encountering a very short poem is, in my estimation, experiencing how brevity concentrates a central feeling and/or image. In this case, the expressions of longing: “yearn,” “please” infuse the poem with desire for the coming season, the impatience ahead of its arrival.
Repetition also appears in the poem’s language. Especially in a very short poem, word repetition is risky. The line between a poem using repetition skillfully and being repetitive is a thin one.
To my ear, this poem stays on the skillful side of that line. Both “deep” and “winter” show up more than once in a way that emphasizes. I find this working well in the poem because the repetition augments a surprising turn. The use of “deep” twice highlights the contrast between the two nouns modified by the word. I like the sense of accuracy this creates in me as a reader. Winter is indeed often bitter and bright at the same time. And then we get the repetition of “winter,” which transitions the poem from a series of descriptive statements to a pleading with the season for connection. For me, these repetitions create an economy that mirrors a sort of wintery sparseness. Lovely.
As always, I would encourage any reader of this poem to speak the poem aloud. Feeling the poem in your body is a great way to discover subtle and not-so-subtle ways that sound and rhythm are affecting you.
About Poem of the Month:
Tune in at 10:30 a.m. on the second Tuesday of every month to hear the month’s poem read by Matt Daly, executive director of Jackson Hole Writers.
The on-air poetry is an offshoot of the physical poetry box on Broadway, one of many place-making projects in Jackson Hole. Situated between Persephone Bakery and Cafe Genevieve, the small wooden box invites passersby to take a free poem as they go about their day — a creative take on the once-pervasive newspaper stand.