Some poets evolve by venturing into
new subjects, new narratives, new locations. Others, meanwhile, burrow further
and further into their core concerns, casting different perspectives on similar
themes, grappling with them in fresh ways, layering them, building their
nuances and ramifications.
Abegail Morley’s recent development,
from her previous collection, The Skin Diary (Nine Arches Press, 2016)
to her new book, The Unmapped Woman (Nine Arches Press, 2020), shows
that she clearly belongs to the latter group. Her focus on loss, already a pivotal
element, has now expanded its reach, its depth and its power to move the
reader.
One clear example occurs in the
opening pages to The Unmapped Woman, in the first lines of a poem titled
Gravid. They can, of course, be read as the portrayal of a moment, of an incident.
However, they can also be read as a declaration of poetic intent for the collection
as a whole. They announce an exploration of the relationship between language
and loss:
Not until after the front door slams
shut
and absence sucks air from its cheeks,
do the words in her head, packed tight
as if on postcards, unhook their ink…
Moreover, when comparing The Skin
Diary to The Unmapped Woman, one clear evolution is the scope of
Morley’s ambition, her juxtaposition of varying losses, her demonstration that they’re
united by key aspects such as dislocation via the disappearance of a sense of belonging.
People anchor us. Their absence disorientates us and leaves us wondering who we
are. This is clearly represented by the title to the new collection, as
expressed in the closing lines of Where you used to be:
…When I go, I’ll unmap myself from
this world,
tug pins like stitches, watch them
stretch and snap.
The Unmapped Woman unfurls via a growing tension between the past and the present. This tension demands to
be faced prior to any potential reconciliation between the two, and the consequent
struggle is beautifully evoked in On having enough messages from the dead:
Your name is paperweighted to my
tongue.
Each time I try to lift it, it bangs
to the floor
of my mouth, bulky as a sandbag,
or an iron girder from that old advert…
The above extract also provides the
reader with an excellent example of Morley’s technical virtues: her natural rhythms,
delicate control of line endings and supercharging of specific, unusual verbs.
As The Unmapped Woman draws to
a close, it gradually turns into an implicit revindication of the role of
language in dealing with loss and absence, poetry becoming a means of
overcoming emotional dislocation. Abegail Morley’s work reminds us that we
can deal with the present and the future thanks to the verbal and artistic
expression of the past. These are poems that not only embrace life but
encourage us to do so too.
