In Break Formation
The indications used to come
like movie fighter planes in break
formation, one by one, the perfect
plummet, down and out. This time they're
slower. But after supper, when I hear
her in the kitchen hum again, hum
higher, higher, till my ears are
numb, I remember how it was
the last time: how she hummed
to Aramaic peaks, flung
supper plates across the kitchen
till I brought her by the shoulders
humming to the chair.
I remember how the final days
her eyelids, operating on their own,
rose and fell, how she strolled
among the children, winding tractors,
hugging dolls, how finally
I phoned and had them come again,
how I walked behind them
as they took her by the shoulders,
house dress in the breeze, slowly
down the walk and to the curbing,
watched them bend her in the back
seat of the squad again,
how I watched them pull away
and heard again the parliament
of neighbors talking.
Copyright 2008 by Donal Mahoney
Originally published in The Beloit Poetry Journal, Winter 1968-69
Critique by Jendi Reiter
I chose Donal Mahoney's "In Break Formation" for this month's critique because it illustrates how understatement and the careful withholding of information can enhance the power and freshness of a poem about a traumatic subject. Families affected by mental illness are often marked by secrecy, shame and confusion. Their members may feel like powerless spectators to the events of their own lives. Mahoney captures the dream-like numbness of this family's surrender, first to the momentum of the mother's madness, then to the authorities who take her away. The contrast between his flat reportage of details and the strangeness of those details sets up a dramatic tension that resembles the "humming" of an incoming bomb.
As we learn from the first stanza, the title was inspired by images of war planes being shot down and separated from their aerial formation. So, too, the woman in this poem is pulled away from her family, her unpredictable course determined by her broken internal compass. "Break formation" in this context also suggests the building-up of forces prior to a psychotic break.
The narrator, who I assumed was her husband and the father of the children in the fourth stanza, tries to steer her "humming to the chair" but his piloting skills are overwhelmed. That phrase gave me a mental image of an electric chair on death row, humming with energy as it is prepared for the next prisoner. Perhaps electroshock treatment, as well? Domestic, military and medical scenarios seamlessly shade into one another, prompting reflections on how dysfunction in one of these systems might impact the others.
The political analogies in this poem are never strained by over-explanation. Items that suggest a wider canvas than the domestic—fighter planes, Aramaic peaks, parliaments—are simply included in his catalog of details, as natural or unnatural as a woman throwing plates. Indeed, what does it mean to be sane in a world of violent conflict? Paranoia is never a purely private aberration. Like Ophelia, or a flower child, the woman could be said to possess a certain gentle beauty in her madness, "how she strolled/among the children, winding tractors,/hugging dolls"—an innocence that offsets the heartless intrigues of rational men.
However, the opening scenes of the poem imply that these moments of trance-like calm portend an abusive outburst. Overwhelmed, "I phoned and had them come again," the narrator says ominously, as if we all know who "they" are. He lets the authorities handle the woman like an inanimate object, or a criminal: "I walked behind them/as they took her by the shoulders.../watched them bend her in the back/seat of the squad again..." Has he betrayed her or saved her? The little word "again" drops a weight of despair on this scene as we realize that this rescue operation has happened before, apparently to no effect.
The last stanza relates the personal tragedy back to structural oppression with the image of the "parliament of neighbors". A parliament should be able to exercise power on behalf of the disadvantaged, but here it is depicted as adding to the shame and helplessness of the victims of this "bombing". Perhaps these neighbors are not so different, after all, from the madwoman cocooned in her dangerous visions, unable to break out of her solipsism and see the suffering of those caught in the crossfire. A lesser poem would spell out the moral, but Mahoney wisely refuses to do the work of self-awareness for us. It is sufficient for him to bear witness to discomforting facts, letting us draw our own analogies to the world we live in.
Where could a poem like "In Break Formation" be submitted? The following contests may be of interest:
Lucille Medwick Memorial Award
Postmark Deadline: December 22
Free contest offers $500 for poems on a humanitarian theme; entrants must be Poetry Society of America members (we highly recommend joining)
Fellows' Poetry Prize Competition
Entries must be received by December 31
Award of 500 pounds from UK-based literary society The English Association is open to British writers aged 16+
Strokestown International Poetry Competitions
Postmark Deadline: January 22
Irish literary festival offers prizes up to 4,000 euros for unpublished poems in English, Irish or Scottish Gaelic languages
New Millennium Writings Awards
Postmark Deadline: January 31
Prestigious twice-yearly award offers large prizes for poetry, fiction and nonfiction, plus publication in handsomely produced literary journal; editors appreciate work with social-justice themes
This poem and critique appeared in the December 2008 issue of Winning Writers Newsletter (subscribe free).
Categories: Poetry Critiques
