SNAKESKIN: The Poetry Webzine

The Outside of Enough

A phrase he chanced upon in Chapter Twenty-One
of Sense and Sensibility: a contretemps
between the exemplars of refinement
and vulgarity, centring upon whether
their host’s ungovernable offspring
were indulged overmuch or just enough.

He wondered where it is, the outside of enough,
imagined a circle of evenings such as this
when the Tranquilyn has ceased its focusing effect
and the Tourettish tics grow louder and more often,
when listening skills are forgotten and she pokes
her face into a prickle of defiance.

Thinking, this is where we live, what we’ve become
familiar with, somewhere beyond lies
the abyss that’s been occasionally glimpsed,
a fear that one day we’ll wake to find
the entire household contents pinched
and zipped inside her eighty-seven bags.

And despite the study days, comprehending
her condition and a wealth of experience
looking after awkward children, he hears a voice
insisting he could change his name and vanish
if only he could manage a semblance of self-murder.
The outside of enough moves off a little further.

Raymond Miller

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Raymond Miller would be pleased to hear them.

Editor's note:
I looked up the phrase in Sense and Sensibility, and am sharing the context here, because it reminded me what a pleasure Jane Austen is to read.

“I have a notion,” said Lucy, “you think the little Middletons rather too much indulged; perhaps they may be the outside of enough; but it is so natural in Lady Middleton; and for my part, I love to see children full of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame and quiet.”

“I confess,” replied Elinor, “that while I am at Barton Park, I never think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence.”