Taylor Edmonds: How I Wrote ‘I Am’

Interview by Zoë Brigley

“When I’m writing something new, I tend to let it splurge out however it lands, without thinking about form too much, as this holds me back during this initial draft. Then I curate the form more carefully when editing.”

I Am

In the dream I was beautiful and skinny.
Everybody cried when I walked down the aisle.
My husband wore a veil and held my wrists.
When told to kiss the bride he lifted
the tulle from his face and said: Mine, Mine, Mine.

My period is six weeks late.
There’s a growing damp patch on my ceiling;
spots appear, multiply.
The Landlord tells me to open the windows,
it’s a symptom of Winter.

My path glows in Autumn.
I wake in the night, rooted. 10 women
dancing around my room, throwing confetti.
A girl sits beside me braiding her hair,
ends dripping onto the covers.

After the test, I drive to my great-grandparents house.
Same white bench under the apple tree,
same secret gap to the railway track.
A stranger opens the door,
dark-haired baby wrapped to her chest.

The next day, I find a crescent fingernail in my shoe.
My trainers are missing their laces,
the doors have no handles.
I find a pocket mirror under my pillow.
A gold ring in the toilet bowl.

This is a powerful poem, and I think its power resides in the voice. The dynamic of how much the speaker will or will not admit is very carefully wrought. It’s a complex speaking voice, and I wonder if the foibles of human psychology are something that interest you in your poems?

Thank you! This poem changed drastically during its editing process. It originally had another narrative running alongside it which I cut entirely, as this narrative voice felt more like the driving force of the poem. It was inspired by a series of dreams and a period of sleep paralysis, and I wanted to capture the strangeness and wonder of such states of being. I wanted the narrator of this poem to be vulnerable and reserved all at once, careful of how much they let the reader in but also opening up their deepest fears and desires.

You chose a cinquain or five-line stanza for the form for this poem. How do poems settle into form for you?

As I mentioned, this poem was edited heavily, and I think I tend to over-write a poem then work to cut it back. I like my poems to be succinct, and this is one of the longer ones included in my book, Back Teeth. This form worked perfectly as each stanza shifts and takes us somewhere new. Five lines was enough to capture a thought or a moment succinctly, leaving room for what is unsaid, before moving onto the next.

When I’m writing something new, I tend to let it splurge out however it lands, without thinking about form too much, as this holds me back during this initial draft. Then I curate the form more carefully when editing. I find this helps me cut back what isn’t needed, and make the poem more short and snappy.

The opening of the poem focuses on a dream wedding, and it’s intriguing that marriage still dominates many people’s idea of a happy life. I wonder if the speaker is trying to break out from this stereotypical happiness narrative, or finding it not to be accessible or quite what was imagined?

I wanted to take a moment that we are conditioned from a young age to think of as ‘the best day of our lives’ and part of our purpose on earth and turn it on its head, give it this underlying discomfort and sinister energy. I think the speaker is conflicted about heterosexual marriage in particular. Her husband wears a veil, declares ‘mine, mine, mine’ and it feels creepy and possessive. The wedding scene is more about everyone else’s reaction and feelings, rather than her own, as she watches herself in this ‘dream’ moment.