Annotation

Kristy Bowen’s Command: a short history of the corset

Femininity and gender are recurring themes in Kristy Bowen’s work throughout her book, in the bird museum; however, she explores these with a great degree of direction, with authority that’s often characterized as masculine. Her first poem in the book (pg. 13), a short history of the corset exemplifies this strong voice in what would be generally considered a “soft” subject, written by a female poet. Yet, from the beginning, we are taken by her assertion:

Note the necessity of small hands, keyholes.

A dilation of the eyes, the haunted cabinet. (l. 1-2)

We, the audience, begin the poem taking her order to “Note” with the first line. This first stanza, a set of couplets (non-rhyming and end-stopped), is instructional, where the second person “you” is understood and carried into the second line of descriptive listing. This is a poet who is giving orders, and we are taking them; we take them through the next few stanzas.

Her second stanza moves the poem forward by taking instruction and combining it with simile. It starts off with a simile and reads almost like a manual:

Like in dancing:

lift the torso from the hips like an egg

from an eggcup, and let the chest

lead as if being drawn forwards

by an upward pulling string. (l. 3-7)

Images are built here with the similes employed. We see how a corset might be put on, the motion in something known for its stiffness. The line, “let the chest / lead” is particularly evocative not only for its use in the instruction of corset assembly, but because it is in formation with Bowen’s use of directives thus far; “the chest” signifies womanhood/woman, and she is to lead; she could be taken to mean “listen to me, let me do the talking”. Hence, Bowen’s strong voice is developed in her second stanza with directives, similes and an instruction-manual style.

The use of language in her third stanza begins to break down the directive, but is still very referential to guidebooks:

Taken from the latin, corps,

but then all nouns are accidental.

All grammer, merely chance. (l. 8-10)

The first line of this stanza is where Bowen begins to pull back on directive commands; “Taken” instead of “Take” is an easy way for her to alter the flow of the poem and ease us. However, it is still guiding, like a manual, in that it is how the word ‘corset’ would appear in a dictionary’s listing. Also, the way line 9 begins with “but”, it acts as a first point of concession in the poem; even with the acknowledgement of nouns being “accidental”. The poet lightens the tight grip she has had on the reader in this stanza of the poem with these concessions and softer voice. Still, she continues with her technique of directing us.

The fourth stanza of the poem is where Bowen really breaks down her use of directive language:

We understand

no more than a pale lick of skin

beneath bone, the sighs

of cloakrooms or lilacs. (l. 11-14)

With “We”, Bowen automatically drops the understood “you” that had been carried throughout much of the poem thus far. This first person plural is inclusive and makes an intimate connection between the poet and reader at a crucial point in the poem, where new meanings are developed with images employed. In this stanza, Bowen refers to the “skin” under (whale “bone”) buttons of a corset, which drives us to the bare nudity beneath clothing; a truly intimate moment where the dramatic shift in language is befitting.

Yet she pulls out of the proximity first person plural provided when she goes into the fifth stanza:

While hardly fit for bird calling or orchards,

the body requires correction, the borders defined. (l. 15-16)

Bowen begins to weld back the authoritative, directive voice by employing a third-person voice here. This third person is semi-omniscient in its knowledge about what “the body” needs, definition. And, this definition begins to manifest itself in the shape of the poem itself, too; this is another end-stopped couplet, like the first stanza. However, this couplet has a slant rhyme to it, with “orchards” and “borders defined”. Thus, Bowen’s poem begins to take on a more formal aspect, something similar to the formality of a corset.

This same formality is replicated in the final stanza of the piece, where Bowen shifts the voice of the speaker again:

See how easily one could slip outside of a story.

Even through a locked door, quietly. (l. 17-18)

The strong, commanding directive is resurrected here with “See”, where ‘you’, the reader, is understood. Unlike how she began the poem telling us to merely “Note”, she now gives us a word with more immediacy, more power. We are instructed to recognize the ease “one”/a woman/the speaker maybe (?) can escape the boundaries of a corset. Despite the formality of the slant rhymes, “story” and “quietly” are just that, slanted. They are not pure form as they are only half-rhymed; and with ease, the poet has thus escaped the confines of form. Hence, the voice in this stanza is most authoritative in not only the shape of the language she uses, but the point she proves.

The adaptive and evolving voice Kristy Bowen commands throughout this poem is masterful, which is most likely why it is the first poem to appear in the book; it is a good piece to lead with. She explores gender through the corset, a typically female-oriented object, with a strong (oftentimes considered as masculine) voice. So, she breaks the mold; and what’s more, she breaks form while still using formal elements with slant rhymes and instructional verbiage. Her voice and form leave us at the end of the poem wanting more, awaiting her next order.