Saint Consequence by Michael M. Weinstein

 

 

        In Michael M. Weinstein’s Saint Consequence, readers traverse the unpredictable territories of disease; the liberation of gender transitioning and accepting one’s queerness; and the tumultuous and frequently turbulent relationships with family as one strives to accept who they are. Each poem is its own world of pain and reckoning. Meanwhile, the tough Siberian landscape serves as a natural mirror for the speaker’s transition and their battle with an autoimmune condition that left them chronically disabled.
        The most noticeable feature of Saint Consequence is its structural experimentation. In a number of poems, lines and single words wax and wane across the page, creating a sensational twisting and turning that mimics the speaker’s emotional, psychological, and even geographic transitions. “Near-Disappearance” and “An Act” are two of the collection’s strongest examples.
“Near Disappearance” relies on subtle spacing and tabbing to reflect the speaker’s self-awakening:

        still       in the heart of the pool             you are opening
        you are eyes where chlorine-blue veins shine
        radical bright through the water          don’t answer

        or that will be your will name.

The tabbing places emphasis on lines like “you are opening” and “don’t answer.” The placement of these two phrases creates a kind of resolve, a secrecy, with which the speaker lives—waiting for the correct time to reveal themselves to the world.
        “An Act” is structurally similar to “Near-Disappearance.” Throughout the poem, the combination of spacing, tabbing, and em dash usage creates a surreal reading experience. The lines and words flow like a river across the page. This placement spotlights lines like “to spill only bits of myself,” “to convince with my intimacy, or else,” and “fact comes untucked, it must be latched.” These lines also act as distinct shifting points that help the poem develop its many emotional and psychological layers:

                                                                to convince with my intimacy, or else
        for the sake of a detail I’ve saved
                                                                to succor me.
                                                                                                & if ever a lavish
               fact comes untucked, it must be latched
in the black of a past I can’t
                        unpack, an ache in the each I reach.

The layering also forms a deep compression, pressing one line into another so that phrases like “or else” and “I’ve saved,” as well as “I can’t” and “I reach” are stressed.
        “Drone Pastoral” is one of the collection’s more traditionally structured poems. Set in Israel’s Negev desert, it is filled with jarring war imagery. Left-aligned and written in three-line stanzas, the structure is the poem’s only predictability. Meanwhile, the speaker acknowledges an overbearing sensation of impending doom: “Everyone had the same question / relating to death and what needed to happen / in the name of rain. / Where was our myth.” The speaker makes other stark observations about shells left “to barnacle in the sediment” and a “phosphate quarry’s // radioactive ash.” These images convey war’s inescapable, timeless consequences, and the  imagery creates the existential immediacy of the poem, and a dystopian tone develops as the poem continues. The speaker makes philosophical anecdotes such as “ […] A promise is / immaculate, unlike an act / which is why I have brought you here.” Such anecdotes preserve the speaker’s self-determination and resilience, juxtaposing the acknowledgement, “there are no lights to put out / the night’s bark grows over the mouth.” The poem’s dystopian tone culminates in the poem’s final line: “there are hosts in the absences, listen.” The line is a call to remember the past and to remember how history influences the present.
        “Drought Pastoral” is a powerful ode to the desert’s intrigue. The speaker declares, “I wanted you, desert / you red incorruptible // parchedness perched on / the earth’s bone shoulder.” The speaker continues, describing the desert as “songless.” At times, the poem’s tone is transcendental, and the speaker displays a deep, Whitman-like connection with the natural world: “at high noon. Today I / heard the grass growing // whispering its one shared word.” Ultimately, the poem is a call to consider the future, specifically for the environment. The speaker states, “But I can’t stop // bleeding for the future / as the automatic sprinkler // seems to love the curb.” Mechanization and urbanization disrupt the speaker’s connection with the natural world, and the speaker begs, “Open up, desert // and let me down into you / seven thousand feet—.” Ultimately, the poem is a call to consider the future, specifically for the environment, and to recognize the intimate relationship humans have with their natural surroundings.
        Saint Consequence’s beauty lies in its careful examination and analysis of the world’s and of existence’s precariousness. Each poem is a world that contains other worlds. Most of all, it is courageous, and Weinstein’s poetry offers a speaker brave enough to imagine and then reimagine their place in the world.