Poetic Musings: Bruise Tanka by Susan Constable

You have to understand what the form is doing, how it works, before you say, “Now we’re going to make it different ..., we're going to turn it upside down, we're going to move it so it includes something which isn't supposed to be there, we're going to surprise the reader."

-- Margaret Atwood, interview with Geoff Hancock


a large bruise

deep inside the mango

unexpected

the way you turned away

when I needed you most

Simply Haiku, 8:3, Autumn 2011

Susan Constable

Modeled on traditional Japanese tanka, this heartfelt poem is made up of five poetic phrases (equivalent to five ku of 5-7-5-7-7) 1 and structured into two parts (“jo,” the preface, and the main statement) with a pivot (L3). It can be read as either of the following:

a large bruise

deep inside the mango

unexpected

the way you turned away

when I needed you most

or

a large bruise

deep inside the mango

unexpected

the way you turned away

when I needed you most

Structurally speaking, the jo, is typically a natural image or image cluster (“long jo”) that precedes the “main statement” of the poem (Cranston, xxiii). It is common in love poetry, where the jo performs a “valuable imagistic function” (ibid.). In the case of Susan’s tanka, the prefatory image of “a large bruise/ deep inside the mango” is visually stunning and psychologically suggestive. It prepares readers to see  what's lying under the surface.

Jo  may be of two types. In one there is no logical connection between the jo and the main statement of the poem. The connection is “solely based on wordplay” (ibid.). This type is called “mushin” (meaningless) 2. In the other, called “ushin” (meaningful), the prefatory image is “logically metaphorical or at least resonates closely with the emotional point of the poem” (ibid., xxiii-xxiv). In the case of her tanka, Susan uses the ushin jo, combined with the emotionally effective pivotal line, “unexpected,” to build up a metaphoric relationship between the two parts of the poem and to uncover two “big bruises:” one is visible and portrayed in the jo (Ls 1&2), and the other invisible and left on the psyche of the speaker as implied in the main statement (Ls 3-5).

Strategically speaking, through a pivot on the unexpected (L3) to uncover the human relations aspect, Susan’s tanka effectively builds, poetic phrase/line (ku) by poetic phrase/line (ku), to an emotionally powerful ending that has the most weight and reveals the theme of betrayal.

There is no doubt in my mind that Susan's beautifully crafted tanka can be used as a model for beginning poets. It skillfully tells a personal story with a universal theme, reminding me of the following remarks:

To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal. -- Malcolm X

There is no betrayal more wounding than the betrayal of love. It touches us in our most vulnerable spot, that of the helpless child who is totally dependent on another. This child always emerges in any relationship where the possibility of trusting in another person exists. -- Jacqueline Wright

Notes:

1 "The syllabic units of Japanese prosody are known as ku, a term traditionally translated into English as "line," I too call them lines and treat them as such, though this practice has recently been called into question, at least as it applies to tanka... There is ample evidence, however, that the Japanese have always -- or at least since the first treatments on the subject in the eighth century -- thought of the ku as meaningfully distinct units, to which different formal criteria might apply....

-- excerpted from Edwin Cranston, A Waka Anthology: Volume One, The Gem-Glistening Cup, xix

ku (prosodic units of 5 or 7 syllables) ...

-- excerpted from Edwin Cranston, A Waka Anthology: Volume Two, Grasses of Remembrance, xxi

2 Below is an example in which the mushin jo is used:

Azasayumi                        A catalpa bow --

Oshite harusame             Bend it, string it, it will spring

Kyo furinu                        Rain fell today;

Asu sae furaba                 If it rains tomorrow too,

Wakana tsumitemu           I'm off to pick young greens

[This] poem pivots on the word haru, which means "spring" in the sense of putting spring into a bow by stringing it, but also is the name of the season. The jo here is of the type called mushin ("meaningless"); the point of the poem is the pun.

-- excerpted from Edwin Cranston, A Waka Anthology: Volume Two, Grasses of Remembrance, xxiv

References:

Edwin Cranston, A Waka Anthology: Volume One: The Gem-Glistening Cup,  Stanford University Press, 1998

--, Volume Two, Grasses of Remembrance, Stanford University Press,2006