In the Language of My Captor
By Shane McCrae
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Winner of the Lannan Literary Award for Poetry (2017)
Acclaimed poet Shane McCrae's latest collection is a book about freedom told through stories of captivity. Historical persona poems and a prose memoir at the center of the book address the illusory freedom of both black and white Americans. In the book's three sequences, McCrae explores the role mass entertainment plays in oppression, he confronts the myth that freedom can be based upon the power to dominate others, and, in poems about the mixed-race child adopted by Jefferson Davis in the last year of the Civil War, he interrogates the infrequently examined connections between racism and love. A reader's companion is available at wesleyan.edu/wespress/readerscompanions.
Shane McCrae
Shane McCrae is the author of several books of poetry, including In the Language of My Captor, which won the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award for Poetry and was a finalist for the National Book Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, and the William Carlos Williams Award, Sometimes I Never Suffered, which was short-listed for the T. S. Eliot Prize, and his recent collection, Cain Named the Animal. McCrae is the recipient of a Whiting Award, a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, a Lannan Literary Award, and a Guggenheim Fellowship. He teaches at Columbia University and lives in New York City.
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In the Language of My Captor - Shane McCrae
1
His God
I am the keeper tells
Me the most popular exhibit
You might not think this cheers me but it does
I’m given many opportunities
I like especially to ask the groups
Led by fat white men I am careful to
Never address the fat man but the group
How has it come // To pass
that I’m on this side of the bars
And you’re on that side
And Who stands in your shoes
You or the people you resemble
they don’t give me shoes // I say
Gesturing toward a zoo employee
and I smile
Often the people do not answer me
Often the fat man squints and says It real- // ly makes you think
Something like that or There
but for the grace of God / I tell the keeper they must be
The daughters and the sons of nearer gods
I tell him my gods had to stay behind
To watch my people / He likes it when I talk like that
the truth is I don’t know
The keeper when he’s drunk
Sometimes he says I’m lucky
To have been rescued from my gods
And I should thank the man who bought me
I used to laugh at him but now I grieve
I think // His god is not a god like mine / His god
Is not a mother not a father
not a hunter not a farmer
his / God is a stranger
from no country he has seen
Panopticon
The keeper put me in the cage with the monkeys
Because I asked to be
Put in the cage with the monkeys
Most of the papers say the monkeys
must // Remind me of my family
The liberal papers say the monkeys must
Remind me of my home
The papers don’t ask me
some days // I tuck notes explanations
Into soft monkey shits
and call white children to the bars
I warn the parents / But still they let their children come
And that’s my explanation / I am
their honest mirror
I say Whether you’re here
to see me or to see the monkeys
You’re here to see yourselves
Privacy
I tell the keeper I don’t know
What he or any white man means
When he says privacy
Especially
In the phrase In the privacy
Of one’s own home / I understand
he thinks he means a kind of
Militarized aloneness
If he would listen I would tell him
Privacy is impossible
If one’s community is
Not bound by love
Instead I tell him where I’m from we
Have no such concept
If he thinks I am / Too wise
he won’t speak honestly
And so I make an / Effort to make
my language fit his
Idea of what