Jennifer Franklin: 'I've stopped being Theirs —'

Jennifer Franklin is a poet, professor, and editor whose lastest book is If Some God Shakes Your House (Four Way Books, 2023). Her work has been commissioned by the Metropolitan Museum of Art and her awards include a Pushcart Prize, a NYFA/City Artist Corp grant, and residencies from the T.S. Eliot Foundation and Café Royal Cultural Foundation. Her publications include The Paris Review, The Nation, poets.org, and “Poetry in Motion” from Poetry Society of America. She leads manuscript revision workshops and teaches in Manhattanville’s MFA Program.I’m ceded – I’ve stopped being Theirs –The name They dropped upon my faceWith water, in the country churchIs finished using, now,And They can put it with my Dolls,My childhood, and the string of spools,I’ve finished threading – too –Baptized, before, without the choice,But this time, consciously, Of Grace –Unto supremest name –Called to my Full – The Crescent dropped –Existence’s whole Arc, filled up,With one – small Diadem.My second Rank – too small the first –Crowned – Crowing – on my Father’s breast –A half unconscious Queen –But this time – Adequate – Erect,With Will to choose, or to reject,And I choose, just a Crown –As AntigoneJennifer FranklinI’m all done being nice.It hasn’t gotten me anywhere.Since I was young, I gaveeverything away—milkmoney, homework, adoration.Everyone wanted to make meinto a small version of herself—teaching me weaving, writing,wiles. All I wanted was love—picked a bouquet of dandelionsand handed it to my mother.When she turned her mouthinto a little o and called the tightyellow suns weeds, my bodybecame a weight I wantedto let go. I thought of allthe lessons I memorizedto keep me still, the colorsI couldn’t wear becausethey clashed with my red hair,all the rules of modestyso men would not look at mewith hunger. The only thingI owned was a jar I was given,like Pandora, as a girl. Before Iunlatched the lid, I had already losteverything—faith, health,my child. I refused to watchwhat flew out. But somethinghard as lapis, real as want,wrenched my wrist right backso hope remained, writhingalone at the bottom of the jarlike dirty water after deadtulips are discarded—yellow stamens droppingpollen to the floor. Silent,it watched me for years.Months at a time, I forgotit was there. But when it’strapped like that, it growsso large, nothing can quell it.No one thanks me for whatI have done. But I don’t needpraise anymore. I turnedweeds into flowers.Concepts mentioned:Keat’s Negative CapabilityThe persona poemEpistolary poemsOther Dickinson poems mentioned:“The Soul selects her own Society –”The Master Letters“After great pain, a formal feeling comes –”“’Hope’ is the thing with feathers”“They shut me up in Prose –”Characters mentioned:AntigonePandoraPersephonePeople mentioned in the interview:Alice Quinn (Columbia U)Richard Howard (Columbia U)Arnold Weinstein (Brown U)OvidDu FuThe RomanticsLucie Brock-BroidoJane HirshfieldLouise Glück(T.S.) Eliot(William) BlakeMichael HarperRita Dove and her book, Mother LoveLucille CliftonLaurie Sheck – The Book of PersephoneJames JoyceProustViriginia WoolfWilliam FaulknerLucia JoyceSylvia PlathBooks mentioned:Anne of Green GablesJane EyreWuthering HeightsRecorded October 2025.Join the Ask the Poet Substack (kathrynpetruccelli.substack.com) for complete show notes with images and regular notices of new episodes. melodyorwitchcraft.com This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kathrynpetruccelli.substack.com/subscribe