Poetry review â SEX & KETCHUP: Charles Rammelkamp finds this collection by Mish is as intriguing as its title promisesâŠ
Sex & Ketchup
Mish
Concrete Mist Press, 2021
ISBN: 978-0578851204
88 pp $12.99
The virus hangs over everything in Sex & Ketchup. It is both real and a metaphor. âIf things go upside down…â begins:
The virus rolls out
of bed,
early,
slips into bloodstained
swim trunks,
adjusts
its âMake America Great Againâ
shower capâŠ
Though not overtly political, the poem ends with another oblique reference to Donald Trump: âan odd / old man / with / an orange tan.â But, malignant as the former president was, heâs only symbolic of a larger reality, which all too often manifests as death.
The virus is front and center in âPandemic,â the first of the six sections that make up this intriguing collection. But when we get to Part 2 â âTiny Dancerâ â we read about the death of the poetâs father. âWish You Were Hereâ is addressed to her deceased father: âDad, I wish you were here during the pandemic.â While âeach day since your passing kills me,â she observes at the conclusion of the poem, âI look on the bright side like you taught me, and, at / least, crying doesnât attract the virus.â
The sixth and final section of Sex & Ketchup, âScissors,â alludes to the death of her mother. âShe passed away/ last yearâ:
I canât
force myself
to throw
her stuff out
or donate it
or hold a garage saleâŠ
The poet accidentally snips a chunk of her middle finger with the sharp scissors as sheâs using it to crop a photo of her mother â âtaken before Parkinsonâs disease/ froze her faceâ â only later reflecting the scissors are ânot sharp enoughâ
to slice away
my memories
of MomâŠ
We also read in this section about the tragic drowning of a younger brother in a nighttime surfing accident. The penultimate poem in Sex & Ketchup, âPlots,â takes place in the cemetery. Death is the great, insidious virus.
The three middle sections, Parts 3, 4, and 5 â âInflatable Doll, âWatch Outâ and âSex & Ketchupâ â take us to a sort of alternate world of horror movie/scifi-like situations, with allusions to Frankenstein, the X-files and even, implicitly, to Jordan Peeleâs Get Out, surreal, dangerous dreamscapes. âSpace Aliensâ begins âThe aliens land on our roof / & ask my mother pleasantly, // What time is it?â Similarly, in âScribbled on a Card from an Alternate Universe,â a poem from the âPandemicâ section, a girl in college writes messages to her mother about âthe virusâ and the situation on campus: âBy afternoon, all our professors had morphed into human- / sized grasshoppers.â
âRumpelstiltskinâ is a riff on the Brothers Grimmâs tale of the imp who spins straw into gold in exchange for a girlâs firstborn. The poem develops Mishâs own inner imp (âa wee Rumpelstiltskin / inside meâ) into âa nasty lady / called âEvil Meâ.â Evil Me shows up in a subsequent poem called âMessage from Evil Meâ and is somewhat like a personification of âvirus.â
âAn Evil Dragonâ is another poem that focuses on an alien menace, a fantastic mythical beast thatâs a metaphor for something devious and malevolent.
âInflatable Dollâ is related in the voice of a blow-up sex doll (âso hard-working men / wonât need / human women / who might get the virusâ). The doll may also be weird on its face but the poem gets at the dehumanization of society that itself seems to have gone viral, just as âGun After Gun After Gunâ shines a light on its manifestation as violence run amok.
âWitching Is Not What It Used to Be,â a humorous, if unsettling, poem in the âWatch Outâ section, brings us back to this root corruption, meditating on the spells they cast
using
their powerful mojo
to give people
the virus
The odd, surreal picture of the world that Mish paints may be summed up in the poem, âSifting Dreams.â She writes âItâs a difficult trip from the underworld up to dreamland.â Reality is scary and malleable.
Which brings us at last to the question: How is sex like a bottle of ketchup? In the title poem, at the center of the collection, Mish tells us that one day
the hormone haze
dries up â
and we tap
the ketchup bottle,
squeeze it,
shake it,
pound it on the table.
Thereâs no more inside.
Even our sex drive is a casualty of the metaphorical virus. But, with sly humor, Mish (aka, Eileen Murphy) goes on: âBut to hell with ketchup. // Try // peppering // your meat.â
Sex & Ketchup
February 18, 2021
Poetry review â SEX & KETCHUP: Charles Rammelkamp finds this collection by Mish is as intriguing as its title promisesâŠ
The virus hangs over everything in Sex & Ketchup. It is both real and a metaphor. âIf things go upside down…â begins:
Though not overtly political, the poem ends with another oblique reference to Donald Trump: âan odd / old man / with / an orange tan.â But, malignant as the former president was, heâs only symbolic of a larger reality, which all too often manifests as death.
The virus is front and center in âPandemic,â the first of the six sections that make up this intriguing collection. But when we get to Part 2 â âTiny Dancerâ â we read about the death of the poetâs father. âWish You Were Hereâ is addressed to her deceased father: âDad, I wish you were here during the pandemic.â While âeach day since your passing kills me,â she observes at the conclusion of the poem, âI look on the bright side like you taught me, and, at / least, crying doesnât attract the virus.â
The sixth and final section of Sex & Ketchup, âScissors,â alludes to the death of her mother. âShe passed away/ last yearâ:
The poet accidentally snips a chunk of her middle finger with the sharp scissors as sheâs using it to crop a photo of her mother â âtaken before Parkinsonâs disease/ froze her faceâ â only later reflecting the scissors are ânot sharp enoughâ
We also read in this section about the tragic drowning of a younger brother in a nighttime surfing accident. The penultimate poem in Sex & Ketchup, âPlots,â takes place in the cemetery. Death is the great, insidious virus.
The three middle sections, Parts 3, 4, and 5 â âInflatable Doll, âWatch Outâ and âSex & Ketchupâ â take us to a sort of alternate world of horror movie/scifi-like situations, with allusions to Frankenstein, the X-files and even, implicitly, to Jordan Peeleâs Get Out, surreal, dangerous dreamscapes. âSpace Aliensâ begins âThe aliens land on our roof / & ask my mother pleasantly, // What time is it?â Similarly, in âScribbled on a Card from an Alternate Universe,â a poem from the âPandemicâ section, a girl in college writes messages to her mother about âthe virusâ and the situation on campus: âBy afternoon, all our professors had morphed into human- / sized grasshoppers.â
âRumpelstiltskinâ is a riff on the Brothers Grimmâs tale of the imp who spins straw into gold in exchange for a girlâs firstborn. The poem develops Mishâs own inner imp (âa wee Rumpelstiltskin / inside meâ) into âa nasty lady / called âEvil Meâ.â Evil Me shows up in a subsequent poem called âMessage from Evil Meâ and is somewhat like a personification of âvirus.â
âAn Evil Dragonâ is another poem that focuses on an alien menace, a fantastic mythical beast thatâs a metaphor for something devious and malevolent.
âInflatable Dollâ is related in the voice of a blow-up sex doll (âso hard-working men / wonât need / human women / who might get the virusâ). The doll may also be weird on its face but the poem gets at the dehumanization of society that itself seems to have gone viral, just as âGun After Gun After Gunâ shines a light on its manifestation as violence run amok.
âWitching Is Not What It Used to Be,â a humorous, if unsettling, poem in the âWatch Outâ section, brings us back to this root corruption, meditating on the spells they cast
The odd, surreal picture of the world that Mish paints may be summed up in the poem, âSifting Dreams.â She writes âItâs a difficult trip from the underworld up to dreamland.â Reality is scary and malleable.
Which brings us at last to the question: How is sex like a bottle of ketchup? In the title poem, at the center of the collection, Mish tells us that one day
Even our sex drive is a casualty of the metaphorical virus. But, with sly humor, Mish (aka, Eileen Murphy) goes on: âBut to hell with ketchup. // Try // peppering // your meat.â