Heather Taylor-Johnson reviews If there is a Butterfly that drinks Tears
If there is a Butterfly that Drinks Tears
by Natalie Damjanovich-Napoleon
ISBN: 978-0-6456337-5-7
Reviewed by HEATHER TAYLOR-JOHNSON
In the opening poem of If there is a Butterfly that Drinks Tears, Natalie Damjanovich-Napoleon writes,
I want to write
structure will work: a sonnet, a sestina,
a couplet—the baby
sh—
its
In these five lines the poet marries both the possibility and actuality of a mother’s daily
routine, more specifically, the creative mother’s daily routine. As the structure of the poem
proves, in mothering, best intentions fall apart. The lines are indicative of what to expect
from the collection in terms of form: sestina and couplets, yes, but also a villanelle, cento,
erasure, ghazal, prose poems, tiny poems, those poems that read as near-lists and those poems
that work with opening-line repetitions. As evidenced in the nine erasure poems that cradle
the nine months of pregnancy, taken from Markoff and Mazel’s What to Expect When You’re
Expecting, Damjanovich-Napoleon stresses playful craft and showcases her originality. The
first month opens with:
Welcome to your pregnancy!
Maybe it’s tender
But
your
body is making to
be
In ‘Maybe it’s tender’ the poet begins with what might be considered a romanticisation of
pregnancy, but then the syntax gets jiggy and excites. Lines two through four don’t work,
then, as a countering device to the warmth of the opening lines, but rather a positive boost.
The following stages of pregnancy continue to be a rather jolly ride, and by the time
we get to the ninth month, the last lines read:
the longest month
the longest
measuring
life on the outside
umbilical
suckle
Here’s exciting news:
Again, in overturning grammar by ending with a colon, the previous lines seem to shine a
little brighter.
In some poetry collections, the inclusion of formed poetry, such as erasures, can feel
workshoppy, but similar to David Stavanger’s Case Notes – a collection of poems on mental
illness and the health systems in place – If there is a Butterfly embraces a plethora of styles as
a way to show the many facets of the core theme, which in this instance is motherhood. The
poet comes off as frisky and fun – even funny – because of her chosen structural diversions,
setting this collection apart from others exploring motherhood by seemingly saying It’s not
rocket science! No, in this collection it is struggle, tenderness, absurdity, disaster and the
overwhelming, all-important love. The messiness of motherhood in Damjanovich-Napoleon’s
hands thrives on and creates energy.
In the same way that the poems’ configurations inform the many layers of mothering
on an emotional level, so too do they apprise Damjanovich-Napoleon’s categorisations of the
mothering concept. Early on in the book is a poem about the morning-after pill, which
implies timing and circumstance are enough for a woman to make a choice, and that the
choice is indeed an important one. Following on that, there are poems about abortion,
miscarriage, phantom pregnancies, infertility and endometriosis, which sit beside those of
incubating, birthing and nurturing. Women who are not mothers know what mothering is
because, first of all, and for the most part, they were mothered, and secondly, and for the
most part, they have a body that is built for birthing and live in a society which expects
birthing, so whether they have children or not, motherhood is highly impressionistic. Aware
that motherhood is also a personal construct, If there is a Butterfly is Damjanovich-
Napoleon’s own.
Having lived in the United States for the decade that delivered the birth of her son and
encapsulated the early years of his life, American politics beyond motherhood comes into
play. There is mention of Obama, school shootings and Trump’s wall, and though the latter is
largely amusing – and scary – the former two stick to the brief, in which the subject is held by
instances of mothering. The following is from ‘We Will Not Speak His Name’:
[…]You wake up, but before you do, he tries to make butterfly kisses, pressing his
face and eye into your cheek. These are not butterfly kisses, but you don’t care. ‘More
more,’ he says. You wake up, but before you do it’s the questions, ‘Fire in sky?’ ‘Yes,
that’s the sun.’ ‘Burns?’ ‘Only if you get too close.’ You wake up, turn on the TV, 20
children and 6 adults have been killed in a mass shooting at a grade school in
Newtown, Connecticut… . You wake up. Toast burnt, scrape, Jam, peanut butter.
‘Triangles please, mama.’ You stare out the kitchen window at the rising sun – today
it is fogged over, distant, struggling to climb.
The world does not stop for tragedy, nor does mothering, which is a world unto itself, so
though this poem is about the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting, Damjanovich-
Napoleon does not waiver from the book’s premise, and the collection is stronger for it. In
fact the majority of the poems adhere so fully to the motherhood motif that when one does
not, it feels out place, a questionable anomaly.
Just as Damjanovich-Napoleon adopts forms that adhere to rules, she also works with
original, fresh and satisfyingly surprising structure, placing the poet in the realm of creator,
where mothers also exist, and this duality of creatorship feels entirely intentional. In the poem
‘The Punctuation Of Infertility’ (recalling that Damjanovich-Napoleon’s concept of
motherhood would and must include those who cannot bear children but long to), she enlists
a punctuation then gives it a title:
! [the first year]
!? [the second]
and so forth until we reach
/ / [how I learned to live with it]
The poem’s singular structure is what makes it so personal, even beyond the line that reads
X [one year after my father died]
It’s a pity that this type of innovation covering an entire poem doesn’t always transfer to
single words, though, as in the opening line of ‘Papercuts’:
Papercut on my tongue, the metallic taste of bro-
ken
words
In this case the shape of the word ‘broken’ predictably follows its meaning, and the pathos is
overstated. This is very different from the opening poem I cited above, when the baby
characteristically
sh—
its
In that instance, the reader is suitably asked to make meaning rather than have the meaning
handed to them.
Poets who write about their own children might find it difficult to balance the
gruelling tussle with the heartfelt delight and might lean toward either frantic frustration or an
over-ripeness of an unconditional love. In these cases the best we can hope for is lack of
cruelty and a minimalised sentimentality, respectively. If Damjanovich-Napoleon wobbles,
it’s toward that over-ripeness of an unconditional love, as in ‘On Dropping My Favourite Tea
Cup After Five Hours Broken Sleep’. The prose poem begins with ‘I feel as vulnerable as a
tea cup with a broken handle; as fresh milk left on the countertop in 40-degree heat;’ and
continues with a list of susceptible items or animals, then ends with ‘as a mother holding her
newborn for the first time.’ Most every collection has a few ‘filler poems’ – poems that are
nice, that are good, but aren’t challenging or exceptional – and maybe that’s where her more
maudlin ones lie. As a whole, though, as a body of work, If there is a Butterfly that Drinks
Tears accomplishes the desired balance so well that it deserves respect, and beyond that, it’s
a truly entertaining book.