3 July, 2020 • • 43.7 • Creative Writing • Original Poetry • Voice
I, Magistra
If language and voice are tools for authority, then what does revolt sound like? Who hears our wails? In the third feature of the Oxonian Review‘s series on voice, Aliya Ram places us in an apocalyptic landscape after a policy crisis has ‘unpeopled’ the world – a poignant analogue for austerity England. It charts the conflict between a whale who has survived the crisis and a powerful, paranoid chancellor. The narrative voice of the poem is persistently challenged, enacting a bitter struggle and an attempt to avert a tragic ending.
**
I / WINDOW DARKLY
This tragedy concerns the life of a whale-like creature
Who looked into her hole darkly
II / SHE, MAGISTRA
Violet sky outside and driving rain
Magistra through a window looking
A promise in the air
A correction in a mind
A pain in her back
I, MAGISTRA have known many things
Such thoughts peopled the fat of her
‘I, MAGISTRA,’ she might have said
Could she have spoken
Had she have said
‘I, MAGISTRA, INTEND’
But a voice cut across the rainspun land
It said: If you make a single mistake, I will ask for a prominent correction.
III / THE NATURE OF THE HOLE
Not all holes are as one hole
Hers is a building with tinted windows
Within it had worked thousands towards the promise of truth
The look of the hole is clarity and thought
The stink of the hole is death and truth
The sound of the hole is the silent man who waits patiently while others search for the words
IV / THE NATURE OF HER
Not all women are as one woman
Hers is a whale-like body: vast, blue and covered in skin
Inwardly whale-ish: small, quivering, capable of birth
As a subject she was of her own story and voice
As an object she frequently spoke only to herself
V / THE LIFE OF HER
Daily, Magistra circled the hole
In this business she was as an insect drowning in milk
Hourly too, and minutely the blind circle
Weekly, her blind eyes sought the sun
In this business she was as a soft mole of hope
‘With hope’
The heft of her pushed outward against the hole and inward into the world
The mind of her pushed outward against the hole and inward into the world
The search of her was not truth, but some edges to catch on
snick the blubber cut ridges and valleys
Hair bones gristle sweat
Weekly, the light would darken and the hole would widen away and she would fall again
Smooth again a circle
Twice a year she learned to see
Each time those days passed back to blindness
VI/ THE WORLD WITHOUT MAGISTRA
Except Magistra there was only a Chancellor
Things as they are suggested her the hole
For them she stays there
For them she stays there
For them she stays there
VII/ UNPEOPLED
Except Magistra there was only a Chancellor (whose voice rang out across the land)
His project is one of prominent correction
His body is one of prominent erection
VIII/ THE PEOPLE
Once there were people in the land
In the years before a Chancellor’s shrill voice spoke
Now there is only Magistra
He came to fear the fatty skin in which she hides
insurrection insurrection
He came to fear the things she hid in that fatty skin unsaid
He came to think she was truth: the hole in which smooth
bodies move blindly
the world corrected
But she was risk: but opaque
but the world uncorrected
IX/ THE CHANCELLOR AND HIS FEAR
Fear is thought; the vain seek thought; the Chancellor is vain
The vain Chancellor loved Magistra as evidence of thought
The Chancellor did not always think of thought
See:
Aloft a horse a hot white man
Epicene fingernails, remarked by all
Bridling
A power man
A crown of yellow plastic
A liturgical message for the empty land:
“Thus spoke I, Chancellor.”
and the thousands fell atop one other to their holes each to their holes faster than the other: lift the heavy iron wheel strain muscle tungsten onto muscle crumple skin under metal bleed under metal back break take a rod and smash the neighbour’s spine make an unknown sign to the unknown group and see his mouth open in writhing then collect a reward return bend let the skin stretch over each one as you lift again heavy cold metal slab on shoulder HEAVY heavy HEAVY heavy—cold and heavy up above your heavy head down down on the skull this time perhaps oh yes on the neighbour gristle blood gristle blood quick rewind rerun don’t forget to break the back or he will heal but oh no no crown oh no no no / INDEED, NOT
In front of it all the pure form of pure form
Thousands as a solved sum
The answer exactly: three fish, seven hundred and ninety two thousand and six people, one hill, one Chancellor, one fatty whale, one factory, one hundred and twenty-two thousand and six people and one yellow plastic crown
XI/ LATER
Three fish, one hill, one Chancellor, one fatty whale, one factory, one yellow plastic crown
XII/ DISEQUILIBRIUM
Things as they are are things; all things must change; things as they are must?
________________________________________________________________________
_________________________ .
XIII/ SELECT
Change
Not change
Stay the same
Not stay the same
All of the above
None of the above
Certain of the above
Disagreements
Conflict
Blank spaces
Illiteracy
Illegibility
Some of the above
XIV/ CONFLICT
Correct
XV/ THE ORIGIN OF THE CONFLICT I
The Chancellor denied that his duchy was now one blind whale, a hill, three fish, a factory and his own plastic yellow crown (thrown on the floor by his majesty, the baby)
In the black slick of heart
where anaerobics breathe
fear brewed
XVI/ BEACHED WHALE
The land unpeopled, Magistra offshored
In this business she was as a tax haven
With truth within and history without
XVII/ THE ORIGIN OF THE CONFLICT II
Unpeople continued worshiping the mounted Chancellor whose vision had realigned expectations and the lives of the remaining hill, fish, factory, crown and whale (paddling across land to a tower)
XVIII/ INTO THE HOLE
Her fins paddled the earth
Clear skin on birthy flesh
Her blind eyes pierced the dark glass
XIX/ THE WORK RESUMES
In the tower she resumed work
Thousands had worked towards the promise of truth
Now just Magistra through a window looking
A pain in her back
XX/ FEAR GROWS
Stop. A dream.
insurrectioninsurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection insurrection
(all this at night)
Epicene Chancellor without sleep on a steed
Calls loudly into one offshored hole:
“If you make a single mistake, I will ask for a prominent correction.
“For I am a man with a prominent erection.”
XXI/ AUSTERE LIFE
This brings us to the situation as it is: a deepening conflict between a silent, blind and fat whale and a Chancellor with only one subject (an object). She, daily growing thinner due to the loss of good flesh to a bad cause; he, baby-like. Silly baby. Silly silly baby.
XXII/ AND GROWS
insurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection
Stop. A dream.
XXIII/ DARED NOT
The Chancellor dared not spear the skinny whale
the insurrection insurrection
insurrection insurrection
He was pursued by the dream of an insurrectiontalking talking insurrecting speaking truth truth truth and insurrecting insurrecting an insurrection insurrectioninsurrectingI, MAGISTRA,
INTEND to interrupt! your unjust solarity, the unjust solar force that governs my story. I have taken the microphone you have let me into your room, home, hearth and now you will hear from me STARS ABOVE! you self-love yourself and they love you and you forgot to love other people—no he has not forgiven you for making us in your image and by he I mean God who is speaking through me to tell you of rot. sylvan historian, teller of lies, you speak only for the pale face, speak only of power and in any case both are the same. no whale, no whale likeness or creatureliness, I am a stick spliced from the tree of heaven, dark sharp and combustible there is no inside that is not outside and no outside that is not inside. all is wood and far from the whale I am the dry stick of growth! XXIV/ INDEED, NOT
She was the blind whale of infinite reproduction. I, MAGISTRA,
INTEND to interrupt I am the dry stick of infinite growth! Fresh from the bark of your richest life, dried by the yellow sun. an evidence of entanglement that leaves your physics speechless for when the world moves, I move, and when I move, it moves through me / INDEED, NOT
Infinite reproduction was not enough for Magistra, the whale. I,
MAGISTRA, INTEND to interrupt Things as they are were your design, things as they will be will be mine: there is no hole, only a tinted building, well-recognised, and a Chancellor with a yellow hat also well-recognised—he works for you.
Things as they are were your design, things as they will be will be mine: there is no whale, only a hungry brown tree-heaven lady in an unjust story: she is I, MAGISTRA.
Things as they are were your design, things as they will be will be mine: there is no conflict, only the unimaginable such as this which is the truth as courthouse they will be imagined away.
Things as they are were your design things as they will be will be XXVI/ MINE
This tragedy concerns a woman, a whale, whose life and blindness cause her demise. The tragedy takes place over thirty-three parts and its central conflict involves a whale-like woman and a Chancellor who fears her. After the Chancellor forces 792,006 people to work in terrible conditions he kills them in an apocalypse caused by sheer vanity and his spoken word. Little remains except the whale-woman, Magistra, who becomes the source of his fear. Her inability to speak entangles with his inability to sleep and so she speaks in his dreams. In the end her blindness is complete, and causes her downfall. I, MAGISTRA,
INTEND to interrupt The tragedy is yours in your design. I am no whale and this tragedy will have only twenty-five parts in which it will speak of the unjust solarity that takes so many slices of life and turns them into blind whales in holes. the conflict is not between a chancellor and a whale it is between me and you XXVI/ DARED
The Chancellor entertained the prospect of spearing the whale. I,
MAGISTRA, INTEND to interrupt blood BLOOD blood on your hands blood BLOOD blood on your hands blood blood BLOOD BLOOD blood blood BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS blood blood BLOOD BLOOD blood BLOOD BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS blood blood BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS BLOOD blood BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS SECRET MURDER STICKING ON YOUR HANDS BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS XXVII/ THE HUNT
Aloft a fishing boat
A Chancellor approaches his quarry
Lama fa, spear in hand
Aloft a steed, unspooling
The Chancellor approached a tinted hole
Slow trot and the time unspooling
Whale inside and trembling flesh
Silent fright and the time kept moving
Murder peopled the fat of her
Slow march across an age of unreason
A pause beside the blackest rock
A sip of water and the time moving
All is not lost, a word of prayer:
“I will tell you where the money has gone.”
Reproach reproach and yet for now
A job still undone and the hot yellow sun
Blind inside a tinted box
Chasing her tail and circling
A whale unprepared for the man invited
Magistra through a window looking
A Chancellor to the window coming
XXVIII/ AN UNEXPECTED SILVER LINING
There was no bloodbath.
The Chancellor’s arrival, smooth and expected
Magistra’s death, cool and collected
Spear cut through fat whale flesh
Blood and meat fed thousands
Tears fell from blind eyes
A final circle with one fin in life
The other fin in death
A wide mouth opened wide:
‘I, MAGISTRA’
Then it stopped
And closed forever.
**
Aliya Ram is a PhD student in comparative literature at Princeton University.
