Every Knotted Fist

Reading Alaan Bowe’s “The Knotted Fist” made me go back to Meg’s blog about Clairesa Clay’s contrapuntal poem “A Blue Black Pearl” and H.K.’s blog about “everything is” in the center of Cordova’s “Of Sorts” because they gave me an explanation and some guidance for approaching this poem. There were so many ways of reading this poem – across the page, down and up, around the center – and they all contributed to my reading of the poem.

Our focus this week is politics, and the title “The Knotted Fist” struck me immediately. After seeing Bamuthi’s performance on Monday and viewing his “Clenched Fist” production, I visualized the “fist” of Bowe’s poem as representing a struggle, and the choice of the adjective “knotted” evoked an intricate image for me. The choice of words in the poem creates a sense of the speaker’s connection – “community,” “communication,” “interaction” – and, at the same time, his lack of connection – “juxtaposition,” “opposition,” “murder.” I saw the poem itself take the form of a fist in the center of which our speaker is

gonna hold all my
fuckin’ grudges
in every knotted fist

The four fingers surround the center of this poem physically but also metaphorically. They are intertwined rather than just clenched. I see the corners of the poem acting in counterpoint to the others and the mention of “Bach fugues” underscores this. The upper left corner of the fist and the lower right both have the word “murder” in them while the lower left and upper right contrast an intimacy and an absence of it. The upper left interacts with the lower right but also with the upper right. We can read this poem across and wonder about the relationship he has with the woman who has given him “a hug.” There’s distance in the hug if he “didn’t get that good a look at her” as there’s distance between him and the “poor fool/forced to sit through this poem.” There’s a missed connection if this listener/reader “winces.” But the wincing is being done in reaction to the bludgeoning of “fingers & tongue.” The use of “bludgeon” here and “clubbed” later is strong language but there’s also more delicate language – “dapple” and “whining.” There are counterpoints throughout and we see the action and reaction, the opposition and the struggle.

The opposable thumb, which makes us human, is present in the beginning of the poem: “murder / rape / incest / torture” overarching the rest of the words. There is cruelty in human interaction, and “any” attempt to get closer “hurts.” The contrast between the “stroke of [his] pen” and his “tongue” has sexual connotations revealing a level of exposure and intimacy with the audience while also bringing up the struggle of an artist. Is he writing the poem on the page with his pen – drawing blood from his fingers, or is he performing it – spitting blood and “spit[ting]/any sound?” The sheets on his bed give a masturbatory image. Is the purpose of his writing then for his own satisfaction or is there a larger world? The relationship and the conflict between him and the audience is being explored.

There’s a well-ordered, complex construction to the form of this poem and to the layers of meaning as we untie the knots that reveal the artist’s struggle with himself, with his art, with his audience, and we find the grudges. I read “every knotted fist” as not just a singular fist belonging to the speaker, but as “every” member of the larger audience whose mind is closed and who won’t listen to what he has to say. This poem, and poetry in general, is an expression from the poet who gives so much of himself in each poem, each “a little death,” that he bleeds on the page or on the stage, and is “clubbed...senseless/if it’s done right.” There’s a dynamic to the interaction that starts with “One,” but if the audience follows the speaker’s directive “don’t mind me,” the struggle to connect packs a powerful punch.

Sheila Joseph