Robyn Schiff

Robyn Schiff’s Run-ons: H5N1

A majority of the poems in Robyn Schiff’s book, Revolver, are composed of lengthy run-on sentences. The poem H5N1 is no exception to this, but it is a clear example as to how Schiff is able to manage and manipulate the run-ons in such a way as being effective.

The first stanza in the poem (10 lines long, averaging 10 syllables to each line) is one big sentence. Yes it’s mixed in with a few commas and one semicolon to break it up, but it is notably a sizeable run-on. We read through four lines before we even get to the first substantial break, a semicolon:

My mask aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

my lungs, as though the inhale/exhale valve

I tightened to filter the avian strain

excludes bacteria blood needs to have; (l. 1-4).

After that, there are 6 lines of enjambment and flow until we get to the end of the stanza with a period. Despite the potential overwhelming nature of run-ons though, we are able to stomach them through Schiff’s use of line breaks. As seen in the first four lines, the line breaks help to quarantine thoughts and administer the weight of a run-on in several doses.

Schiff also makes the run-ons easy to digest at first by using a rhyme scheme. The lines end with rhymes: a, b, a, b, c, d, e, c, d, e. The first stanza does this exactly, whereas the second begins to breakdown in the middle. The third stanza follows the scheme, with the exception of two lines (b and b). Then, the fourth stanza applies the rhymes unerringly again. Even though these rhymes are explicit, we don’t come to expect them as we normally would because of Schiff’s use of run-on. The run-ons create a long-winded breath, making the end rhymes feel further apart than they actually are. And, the end rhymes assist the run-ons by subconsciously making them seem not so long. Hence, there is a push and pull effect between the run-ons and rhymes that keeps us balanced as readers.

By the time we get to stanzas five, six, and seven however, the rhyme scheme is lost. This might be argued as being detrimental to the poem and leading us astray. But, it could also be said that by this point in the poem (40 lines in) we are accustomed to her use of run-ons and no longer need the assistance of rhymes.

What’s more with Schiff’s run-ons is that they act as efficient tools for her to move from one subject to the next, from one place to another, without disruption. This is easily seen in the fifth stanza:

but in the diseased light the building looks

to me like the Pentagon and flying toward it

my perspective matches the one from the

cockpit window of the hijacked jet

if fever can be said to concentrate

all the heavenly glare that must have bounced

off the cars parked in the secure lot at

9:43 AM,

for here there is no light, save from the warehouse

loading dock where an unmarked freight (l. 41-50).

Here, she flows from the Pentagon, to the jet that crashed into it on 9/11, to its parking lot, and then to a warehouse loading dock. The biggest jump takes place between the 9/11 references to the loading dock, which is facilitated by being run-on. This style of association keeps our minds running and allows her to pull off the leaps she takes to bring in new mental images because of the momentum built. When we’re running from one line to the next, we don’t stop to take deep breaths or think about how the subject has changed into something new. Instead, we are forced into going with the flow.

Furthermore, this flow created by Schiff’s run-ons provides the perfect backdrop to highlighting certain lines when she writes in ones that are short and concise. She occasionally breaks up the current of lines and thoughts with something smaller, succinct, catching our attention before it’s drifted away. The first instance of this in H5N1 comes in the third stanza, when she breaks after the sixth line and then writes:

And who would not kiss the head of a swan

just to try to memorize

the softness of something wild? I should, (l. 7-9).

We are pulled back into the poem with a fresh sense this brevity produces. And, since these smaller lines appear more infrequently than the run-ons, they act as ornate features in the piece, making them arguably the strongest lines in the poem, treats. Further, these brief structures amid the lengthy run-ons help to set the pace at which we read. This is evident at the end of the poem, when we get a series of short sentences:

our vows. The groom’s cake is packing tape.

The bride’s cake is Styrofoam. My blood

is something blue before I cough it up. (l. 68-70).

While Schiff composes the poem with run-ons, and we see several shorter lines that break it up, this the only instance where we get three sentences with three lines in a row. By stopping us so repeatedly here, we slow down from the long run we’ve had throughout the poem. It eases us out of the piece, allowing us to breathe again, just as a runner’s cool-down would do.

Thus, with line breaks, rhyme schemes, subject/association flow and occasional brevity, Schiff manages and manipulates run-ons. What would be typically taken as grammatical flaw, she takes advantage of, pacing us with poetic devices. H5N1 is an effective poem because of these uses, the way it reads. The title translates into what is commonly known as “bird flu,” a respiratory disease; and, like a respiratory disease, this poem affects us in the way we breathe.