Anxieties by Donna Masini

Anxieties

by Donna Masini

It’s like ants

and more ants.

West, east

their little axes

hack and tease.

Your sins. Your back taxes.

This is your Etna,

your senate

of dread, at the axis

of reason, your taxi

to hell. You see

your past tense—

and next? A nest

of jittery ties.

You’re ill at ease,

at sea,

almost in-

sane. You’ve eaten

your saints.

You pray to your sins.

Even sex

is no exit.

Ah, you exist.

One of the things I love about poetry is that there is a poem about everything: every emotion, state of being, animal, plant, phobia, desire, sin, person, place, historical event, toy, food, bodily function, political situation, etc. Everything.

That is what first drew me to this poem. I read the title and wanted to see if this poet had captured what I sometimes feel. And, yes, she did, and then some.

First, I want to point out the use of second person here. Using "you" rather than "I" or a third person, helps get the reader involved. We have all felt anxiety, and at line 6, where the first "you" appears, we are ready to be found out because we already relate to what is being said on the page.

Turning something deeply felt into something visual through words is not easy, but Masini gets it immediately. It may be because I hate ants, but I think it is more. The kind of stress that keeps you from sleep is like ants/more ants--they are moving, they are everywhere (west/east), they are annoying, and you cannot get rid of them.

Then anxiety gets more vicious. They have axes to hack and tease; this reminds me of slasher movies! Sins and taxes--yes, these are things that keep us awake, give us stomache cramps, make our palms sweat. We are given more metaphors: an active volcano, a corrupt and murderous group of politicians, and a taxi to hell. Yep, that is what is feels like.

Besides all of the great rhyming in this poem, as well as the other sounds (alliteration, consonance, asonance--Masini has it all in here), we get this gem--"you see your past tense." You in the past tense? Or your past, tensing? It works both ways and is marvelous in both.

After a few more descriptions, ending with almost "in-/sane," we are reminded that we tried cures, none of which worked, and two of which we mixed up: we ate our saints and prayed to our sins, rather than the other way around.

Sex cannot even help!

But what does all of this prove? That we exist. And existing without tension is not possible. Sometimes existence is awful, but the alternative is worse.

So after all of those anxiety-inducing images and reminders, the poet ends on a somewhat more positive note.

What a great poem this is, although each time I read it, I am stuck with images of ants in my head. Yuck!

This poem was published in 2014 on Poem-a-Day and can be found on the Academy of American Poets website here. It was also in Best American Poetry, 2015, and Donna Masini's book, 4:30 Movie: Poems.