Upstairs in the Garden:

A Review
Moira

To discover a writer who arouses a myriad
of passions when the cold unforgiving north
wind blows through all the cracks and gaps
in my old farm house is akin to any sensual

j delight imaginable. Finding Robin Morgan’s

collection, Upstairs in the _Garden, .W.
Norton, 1990) amongst a_p1le of Christmas
gifts from my love was just that warming
treat for me.

The collection of poems is compiled from
several of Morgan’s previously published
works, along with many new poems. The
book spans her writing from 1968 till 1988,
taking us through the life changes reflected
in Morgan’s very personal writing style.

With my partner looking over my shoulder
and afer a quick look at the index, I t11rned to
page 28, Lesbian Poem. Here in italics the
poet writes, “dedicated to those who turned
immediately from the contents page to this
poem.” After our shared laughter we both
fell into what read as a wondrous journey
into the heart and mind of an inspiring wom-
an. Morgan captures moments for us and
pulls the threads of familiar closer. Simple,
clear language are in her words. In Lesbian
Poem we hear her honest speech;

"I love women as a People, yes.

And my breath, work, like (and probably
my death) are bound to women

out of that love.”

Morgan carries through with cutting reality:

"Yet! have also lain in beds
with some women, yes.

for a variety of reasons-

not the least ofwhich,
surprisingly/obviously,

was male respect.

But if there is a next time, by god,
it will not be for that,

 

March 1992

 

nor will we lie on a plank

in sorneone's correct political plag‘orm,

nor will it be done for abstract female approval
or respect.

It will be because our minds

challenge and delight each other,

and for other qualities I cannot know yet
because they will be hers,

concrete, specyic, individual,

like her name."

Another of Morgan’s poems, Two Women,
is six pages long, not unusual among her
epic poems. It is another of her intensely
personal poems that seemed to speak direct-
ly to us.

“Never the rosebud nor the rain, my dear,
were you to me.

Never the sunset nor the dawn

was I to you.

Indulgences of indolent linguistics

have no place between two women of a tem-
perament more prone

to cactus thorns and blizzards,

two women living in an age

of instant fissioned noon before

an everlasting night."

This poem, like many in this collection, is a
story where we ride on the sounds and pas-
sions of the poet’s words. Morgan’s poetry
explores themes of motherhood, her years of
relationships, political struggles, her feelings
about women, her revealing feelings about

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all of it. The injustices we as women ex-
perience is a theme that laces many of her
longer pieces together. Morgan as a writer
has a wonderful knack of starting us in a
very small private place, a familiar place,
and then transporting us to a much broader
picture encompassing the “all” yet some-
how holding us to the personal. Poems
such as City of God, The Network of the
Imaginary Mother, Battery, and many oth-
ers are all such stories, little journeys in
themselves.

The fine writing and complex thoughts that
make up these poems leave me incapable
of paraphrasing, so I will leave you with
this taste and the btuning desire to build yet
another fire and curl up with this fas-
cinating woman poet V

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