Of Politics, & Art
--for Allen
Here, on the farthest point of the peninsula
The winter storm
Off the Atlantic shook the schoolhouse.
Mrs. Whitimore, dying
Of tuberculosis, said it would be after dark
Before the snowplow and bus would reach us.
She read to us from Melville.
How in an almost calamitous moment
Of sea hunting
Some men in an open boat suddenly found themselves
At the still and protected center
Of a great herd of whales
Where all the females floated on their sides
While their young nursed there. The cold frightened whalers
Just stared into what they allowed
Was the ecstatic lapidary pond of a nursing cow's
One visible eyeball.
And they were at peace with themselves.
Today I listened to a woman say
That Melville might
Be taught in the next decade. Another woman asked, “And why not?”
The first responded, “Because there are
No women in his one novel.”
And Mrs. Whitimore was now reading from the Psalms.
Coughing into her handkerchief. Snow above the windows.
There was a blue light on her face, breasts and arms.
Sometimes a whole civilization can be dying
Peacefully in one young woman, in a small heated room
With thirty children
Rapt, confident and listening to the pure
God rendering voice of a storm.
I believe this poem reflects the views of the narrator reminiscing his childhood. He remembers his teacher, who was dying for tuberculosis, reading his class stories, particularly Moby Dick. The narrator sees the cycle of life happening with his teacher dying and her teaching the next generation. The title of the poem suggests the combat between politics and art. That one day future generations will not know art because it has been taken over by politics. The narrator gives an example of Moby Dick and how it may become an unknown story because there are no women in this story. The narrator becomes saddened by the idea that children will miss out on some of the greatest works of art because of politics. I feel that the author has made this poem a warning. If we let politics get in the way of art, we are depriving future generations from its beauty. He suggests that depriving them of art opposing political views can destroy the world, like a winter storm.
I feel the author is trying to make you imagine a scene of children listening to their school teacher, in amazement by the story she is telling. But, changes the tone of the poem when he switches gears into sadness that we may one day live in the unknown of art ruined by politics. I think this poem could be considered an elegy to non-politcal art, not a particular person. Like I said earlier, it could one day be nonexistent. As the teacher is dying, so is the art. I believe this poem might also be taken as a narrative. It is telling a story within a story, but more importantly, it is telling a story of a beautiful art fading in our existents.
There are a few assonances in this poem. Examples are, store, snow, moment, before, open, boat... The O sound is repeated a lot throughout the poem. Another example of this is at the end of the poem: light, civilization, in, listening... The author does a good job of using assonance throughout his poem.
