Every Body Lies
by A.E. Hines
(published in his 2021 book, Any Dumb Animal, from Main Street Rag Press)
That’s what it says on her black tee-shirt,
the neighborhood girl’s, in long white letters,
stretched tight across her chest. And not
in two words—not “Everybody Lies,” but
Every—Body—Lies. We know a body
of evidence can jail the innocent man,
and still, we like to pretend: the wide body
of the plane pushes back from the gate
with the promise of safe arrival, the Atlantic
will forever belch out fish. Every body lies.
The body of my ex, the one I knew best,
had lips that said he’d never leave
and legs that sped him out the door. Even my body,
my own, told me for the longest time
I wanted him to stay.
I love so much about this poem!
First, is this a tailed American sonnet? I admit that since the sonnet workshop I was in on Sunday I see sonnets everywhere, but we are looking at 14 lines with a tail, and there is a volta towards the end, so maybe yes. Maybe not. But maybe yes.
Second, I so enjoy how this poem begins with a casual sight in the speaker's neighborhood, turns that into an examination of grammar and word play, and then ends with a personal and heartbreaking narrative.
The Word Nerd in me is right there with the taking off of "body"--since that is the grammatical error on the tee shirt--and then gives us examples: legal/social justice, aeronautical, and this gem of description: "the Atlantic/will forever belch out fish."
And that is the bridge into the personal, for nothing is forever and, the speaker tells us, "Every body lies." What a segue!
Here, in the ex, we get his lips and his legs, and we end with the speaker, alone. A powerful poem that has a fun beginning and a definite turn.
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