Lis
a Ampleman: I’ve been savoring Mary Szybist’s second book of poems, Incarnadine (Graywolf, 2013), released recently. Nearly eight years ago in St. Louis, I heard Szybist read from her first book, Granted, and I bought it immediately. In fact, I asked her where I could find a copy of one of the newer poems she’d read, and she gave a copy, on paper, to me. I’ve been waiting years to see that poem (“Touch Gallery: Joan of Arc”)—and others I’ve seen in literary journals since—in book form.
Incarnadine is more than worth the wait. Many of the poems meditate on the Annunciation, when the angel Gabriel asked Mary if she was willing to become pregnant with Jesus. Some playful poems use language from Nabokov, from the Kenneth Starr report on Bill Clinton’s misdoings, from George W. Bush’s speeches, all while discussing the Annunciation. And Szybist makes use of the fact that her first name is also Mary. When we read “Update on Mary,” for example, we’re not entirely sure which Mary it is who “has too many silver earrings and likes to sort them in the compartments of her drawer.” I admire how Szybist entwines the religious elements with both lyrical meditation and startling contemporary images. I find myself reading the book slowly, wanting to draw out the experience.
