Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Marilyn Mei Ling Chin’s "Horse Horse Hyphen Hyphen: Border Ghazals: 1" is an intense, fragmented meditation on identity, trauma, desire, and memory. Written in the ghazal form, which traditionally consists of autonomous couplets linked by a thematic or emotional thread, the poem employs sharp juxtapositions and unsettling imagery to explore the speaker’s divided selfhood. The title itself—"Horse Horse Hyphen Hyphen"—suggests a liminal state, a connection between identities or histories that remains unresolved. The phrase evokes both movement and separation, as a hyphen functions to both join and delineate.

The opening couplet—"I hate, I love, I don’t know how / I’m biracial, I’m torn in two"—establishes the poem’s central paradox. Love and hate are presented as inextricable, their simultaneity leading to confusion (“I don’t know how”). The speaker’s biracial identity further amplifies this inner conflict—she is “torn in two”, suggesting not just a mixed heritage but a fundamental rupture within her being. The enjambment between the first and second lines mimics this split, reinforcing the dissonance of holding contradictory emotions and identities.

The second couplet introduces a force that intensifies this fear and fragmentation: “Tonight, he will lock me in fear / In the metal detector of love.” The phrase “lock me in fear” conveys a sense of entrapment, while “metal detector of love” introduces an oxymoronic, mechanized scrutiny—love, here, is not liberating but surveilling, a space of tension rather than security. This image suggests that love in the speaker’s experience is bound to danger, control, or suspicion.

The third couplet—“Rapeflowers, rapeseeds, rapiers / A soldier’s wry offerings”—is striking in its unsettling wordplay. The repetition of “rape” within different linguistic contexts (rapeflowers—a benign agricultural plant; rapeseeds—its product; rapiers—thin, sharp swords) forces the reader to confront both the word’s agricultural and violent connotations. The soldier’s “wry offerings” imply a history of war, sexual violence, and coercion. The ambiguity of whether these offerings are literal or metaphorical intensifies the poem’s sense of instability and dread.

The fourth couplet—“He will press his tongue / Into my neighing throat”—merges eroticism with animalistic imagery. The “neighing throat” evokes a horse, reinforcing the title’s reference and possibly alluding to the history of conquest, where horses were both weapons of war and symbols of captivity. The image is both sensual and violent—the pressing of the tongue suggests intimacy, but the “neighing” implies distress, a struggle against submission.

The fifth couplet shifts to language and communication: “I can speak three dialects badly / I want you now behind the blue door.” The admission of imperfect multilingualism underscores the speaker’s fragmented identity—her linguistic dislocation mirrors her emotional and historical dislocation. The imperative—“I want you now behind the blue door”—is sudden and intimate, a demand for connection despite linguistic inadequacy. The “blue door” could symbolize longing, secrecy, or a threshold between realities.

The sixth couplet introduces a surreal, dreamlike transition: “In a slow hovercraft of dreams / I saw Nanking from a bilge.” The reference to Nanking—a city historically marked by the brutal Nanjing Massacre—injects historical trauma into the poem’s personal turmoil. Seeing Nanking from “a bilge” (the lowest, often dirtiest part of a ship) suggests displacement and historical burden. The speaker’s perspective is one of someone relegated to the margins, viewing history from a compromised, inferior position.

The seventh couplet—“Some ashes fell on his lap / I’m afraid it’s my mother”—links the personal with the historical, evoking cremation, destruction, and loss. The ashes may symbolize ancestral remains, the remnants of war, or the mother as a spectral presence. The phrase “I’m afraid” underscores a deep, unresolved anxiety—memory and grief intrude upon the present in an uncontrollable way.

The final couplet delivers the poem’s most jarring statement: “The protocol is never to mention her / While we are fucking.” This abrupt shift from maternal mourning to physical intimacy is deeply unsettling. The word “protocol” suggests an unspoken rule, an agreed-upon suppression of history, trauma, and filial obligation in moments of passion. The line suggests that the mother’s presence—both literal and metaphorical—must be repressed to maintain the illusion of intimacy, yet the very act of stating this rule breaks it. The poem ends on this transgressive note, leaving the reader suspended in discomfort.

"Horse Horse Hyphen Hyphen: Border Ghazals: 1" is a masterful exploration of dislocation, trauma, and the entanglement of love, violence, and history. The ghazal form allows for sharp juxtapositions, reinforcing the fractured nature of the speaker’s identity. Each couplet introduces new tensions—between submission and resistance, desire and fear, past and present. Through its bold, uncompromising imagery, the poem refuses resolution, instead capturing the raw, unfiltered experience of living between worlds, between memories, and between selves.

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