“the rounding up / of self, the animal coiling.”

 Although most poems in Jessica Bozek’s debut are phantoms that evade unambigious comprehension, Bozek creates a tangibly pensive and doleful mood that saturates. The Bodyfeel Lexicon’s concept provides a semi-stable framework for readers. In “The Peary Assemblage: On the Remnant Correspondence and Ephemera of an Unidentified Wolf and Leon Szklar” – a ficticious editor’s note to the collection – we learn that “Wolf” and “Leon” (also referred to as “Leo,” “Szklar,” “Leopard Szklar”) are the primary speakers in the poems. The note explains that the correspondence between Wolf and Leon Szklar, two lovers, was found in a wolf den by a third party – the narrator of the editor’s note. The letters and other fragments, we’re told, were concealed in the skin of a caribou.

The subject of much of the letters and fragments can be labeled transformation. Human beings are in a constant state of becoming, and this fact is implicit in and central to these poems. The series of letters begins with childhood memories. In one of the first epistolary poems in the collection – a letter from Wolf to Leo – Wolf confesses a deep need for a protector, though whatever she requires protection from seems largely imagined. Wolf notes that when she was a child, a “bag lady lived in the space between the wall & [her] bed.” She feared the bag lady. Her fear is the product of a typical youngster’s developing imagination. Like so many children that sleep with the protection of stuffed animals, Wolf finds comfort and safety with her lion pillow. Wolf says of the lion on her pillow, “ If ever [the bag lady] tried to crawl up from that narrow space, then he would raise his head from the pillow, lift it high through the opening & roar.” Part of growing up is learning one’s limitations, identifying fears and gathering forces or defenses against that which may harm.

Throughout these letters, Wolf and Leon share fears and childhood memories; however, the letters often don’t seem to speak directly to one another.  Each speaker gets lost in his or her own preoccupations. Both Leo and Wolf are portrayed as solitary and isolated. Their letters are their only true connection to one another, to another human being. While they address each other in their letters, each seems to be speaking to his or herself rather than the other. In fact, Wolf especially seems to be willfully extracting herself from society or any kind of human community. In one letter she implores Leo to “Divide with [her].” In J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Harry learns that Voldemort has stored parts of himself (his soul, his essence, his core) in other people and objects. These objects are referred to as horcruxes. In a similar way, Wolf and Leon seem to be storing parts of their consciousness in these letters and eventually in each other. It’s a form of protection. By dividing one’s self into many parts and hiding these parts in people and objects outside of the self, one can remain safely detached.

But even detachment has boundaries. Wolf desires further transformation – animal transformation. In a letter to Leo, she expresses the desire to metamorphose: “In the winter my tail will keep me warm. Ingenious, the rounding up / of self, the animal coiling.” She gathers herself as an animal would do to keep itself warm, but for humans the act might be more indicative of the need for protection – safety rather than body heat. Because Wolf has no human contact beyond her correspondence with Leo, her animalism is exaggerated.

Leo undergoes his own transformation and transformations of understanding. He states:

I
should have recognized that life would always be topography built up
to be leveled. The reconstructions were similar. Sometimes a ceiling
fan stood in for an air conditioner, but my poorly shaven Adam’s
apple remained. My strong fingernails tore still at the binds. My
fading shoulder freckles kept right on fading.

When my spots come in, come to me.

Bozek’s poems often comment on the body’s landscape and language. Leo regrets his inability to recognize life’s develutionary qualities. The final line of the poem/letter is an admittance of the transformation that is taking place. It is something he shares with Wolf, something that despite their changing natures, they have in common. 

In a section of the book called “The Transports,” the theme of transformation continues. There are many passages we must traverse in the becoming of ourselves, and the communications between Wolf and Leo suggest that without some form of human contact we wither, become extremely insular. In “The Leopard’s Prayer,” Leo remembers attempting to form these human relationships or connections: “I kissed / her on the mouth. Ungracefully but long. Eyes glutted shut with / embarassment, I bore down so that she couldn’t protest.” While Leo and Wolf may understand the importance of connecting to others, they don’t appear equipped with the skills to form the connections. In fact, their respective isolation binds them more than anything else. Bozek ends the poem, “I gave up my body / in ever-renewing bits.” We spend our entire lives in constant isolation and transformation, and if we don’t adapt or are unwilling to become, we dissolve.

The peculiar “plot” demands attention from the reader, and the poet could probably be accused of being too top-heavy with her concept. While interesting and romantic, the poems themselves would function more fully without some of the heavy-handed details provided in the editor’s note. The poems reveal themselves in threads that can be followed throughout the correspondence, and the note imposes too much form, too much explanation. But Bozek, if indulgent, is incredibly original. At their best, these poems evoke an atmosphere more than a story – a familiar coldness so strange, it perhaps can only be accessed through strongarmed strangeness.

“The Leopard Transport” ends: “Tell me if you are still you – not physically. Voraciously.” It is important to keep moving forward, or at least to try to keep moving forward, even if we are running stationary. The relationships we rely so heavily on will change over time, and if we don’t adapt, don’t keep up, they will be lost, and we will all become the bag lady exiled to the space between the bed and the wall, alive only in imagination, only in fear.

 *