Speak

In Stanza 1, the speaker’s announcement that he can only speak in a “flat voice” (Line 1)—a voice devoid of emotion—suggests that he is downcast or deflated about something and unable to put any effort into expressing himself. The next lines provide a clue to his situation. He has been searching for someone, having “gone every place / Asking for you” (Lines 3-4). He does not yet inform the reader that the “you” he addresses is God; the lowercase version of the pronoun is one way to keep this information obfuscated. The speaker has been wondering how his search would turn out and how it would end, but he is now at the end of the road. In a metaphor that, with knowledge of the rest of the poem, clearly refers to God, he likens the situation to having a streetlight “spin” (Line 7) somewhere above him but being “blind” (Line 8) and unable to perceive it.

In Stanza 2, the speaker reflects on a well-known passage from the Bible’s Book of Ecclesiastes, which in the King James version reads, “I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all” (Chapter 9, Verse 11).

Lines 13-14 allude to Sonny Liston (c. 1930-1970), an American heavyweight boxing champion in the 1960s. Known for his fearsome strength, Liston lost the title to Cassius Clay (later known as Muhammad Ali) in 1964. In a rematch the following year in Lewiston, Maine, Ali knocked Liston out in the first round. However, suspicions immediately arose that Liston had deliberately lost the fight. The knockout was sometimes referred to as the “phantom punch,” since it did not appear to be a very hard blow. From around the 1920s, the phrase “in the tank” (Line 13) has been used to refer to a boxer who intentionally drops to the canvas and pretends to be knocked out, or takes a dive. (In the 19th century, a “tank” was a swimming pool, so going into the tank meant diving into the pool.) In the Liston-Ali fight, the accusations of a fix were never resolved. In Line 14, when describing Liston’s actions, the speaker uses the term “Lord,” which reveals for the first time that the poem is addressed to God.

The final two lines of this stanza refer to executed murderer George Ernest Doty. Doty came from Bellaire, in Belmont County, Ohio, just a few miles from Martins Ferry, where Wright was born and raised. They were near contemporaries: Doty was born in 1920 and Wright in 1927, although the two men never met. Doty was a taxi driver, and in 1950, he raped and killed a 19-year-old girl who was a passenger in his cab. He was executed in February 1951. In addition to mentioning him here, Wright wrote two poems directly about Doty: “A Poem About George Doty in the Death House” (1957) and “At the Executed Murderer’s Grave” (1959).

Stanza 3 sees the appearance of Wright’s muse, Jenny. There are numerous references to her in his poetry. It is unclear whether the name refers to a real woman (or several women), but in his work, Wright gives her a mythical dimension. Here, the speaker’s feelings about Jenny are so strong that they permit him to step outside the poem’s form: The speaker says, “[R]hyme be damned” (Line 18), gives the first three lines of this stanza seven syllables rather than the standard six, and uses an imperfect rhyme in Lines 18 and 20 (“damned” and “old”) rather than the perfect rhymes of Lines 2 and 4 in the first two stanzas. The speaker is saying that Jenny can no longer be relied upon for inspiration; she has, metaphorically, sunk to the lowest level: She became a sex worker, dumped her baby in a trash can, and made her way across the state with a light heart. At some point, she passed through Jacksontown, a tiny town in central Ohio, east of Columbus. Jenny has, in other words, deserted him and can offer neither hope nor solace.

In Stanza 4, the speaker states that, like Jenny, he has been to Jacksontown, where a few years ago he was “picked up” (Line 26) by a “good cop” (Line 28). He says nothing more about the incident or the police officer, leaving the nature of his offense unstated. It is here that the speaker refers once again to God, whom he is addressing. He uses the conversational, almost flippant phrase “Believe it, Lord, or not” (Line 29), which is hardly the pious, respectful manner in which a devout believer might normally address the Almighty. Indeed, there is amusing irony in addressing an omniscient being who—in Christian dogma—knows everything about a person anyway, so saying, “Believe it, Lord, or not,” followed by “Don’t ask me who he was” (Line 30), is comically facetious and unnecessary. (It is the supplicant who must be the believer; the omniscient God already knows what the truth is, as well as the name of the policeman.) In the last two lines, the speaker repeats that he speaks in a “flat voice” (Line 30), this time directly acknowledging his “flat defeat” (Line 29). This is a miserable man who appears to have given up hope; he has been defeated in the search for a meaningful life.

In Stanza 5, the speaker tries to put his case before God to get sympathy and attention. He has been a companion to some lonely, isolated people, presumably giving them comfort and support. When they died, something of him died too. He then succinctly expresses his benevolence toward the unfortunate, which is one of the teachings of Jesus: “I have loved Thy cursed” (Line 37). He has also loved the beauty of God’s creation. Having thus established his credentials, he pleads that the deity should “Come down” (Line 39) from his heaven, ending with a question: “Why dost thy hide thy face?” (Line 40). This expresses the speaker’s frustration and lack of understanding; he wants an explanation, but the poem concludes on his unanswered question. The Lord whom he addresses remains silent, unmoving, inscrutable, offering no evidence that He even exists.