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The Man in 2C
I’m trying not to make too much of this,
But someone in 2C (the floor below)
Has walled himself within an edifice
Of waste, a rank malodorous abyss
In which he sits as insects skitter cross
The room and blankly stares upon the loss
That harbingered his subtle overthrow.
I don’t want this to be a metaphor
For something wider, worse, that prowls the world,
Some dark and lurking absence at the core
Of life, some sin original restored.
I want 2C to be a pain unique
And not suspect that its despairing reek
Has elsewhere (maybe everywhere) unfurled.
.
.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
I found this a very disturbing poem, Jeffrey, since so much is left to the imagination as to why your downstairs neighbour apparently lost his mind.
The last three lines, especially, give us pause, making us hope, possibly against hope, that this is an isolated incidence.
A powerful read.
I found this line and a bit, ‘(He) blankly stares upon the loss / That harbingered his subtle overthrow’, especially skillful and moving.
Break the lease and move!
Since the poem recounts a true story, I would guess that the unfortunate man is an example of a “hoarder” — a phenomenon of mental illness that has suddenly metastasized in the last two decades or so. In fact, there were two TV series here in the States on the spreading problem.
Pathological hoarding happened in the past (look up the Collyer Brothers), but today it has exploded with a vengeance. Many of its victims don’t just save useless and outworn possessions, but also ALL OF THEIR GARBAGE, including organic food waste.
C.G. Jung would have called it the predictable counter-response of the unconscious mind to the world of out-of-control mass consumerism.
The last line of this poem is especially insightful, and also a very clever way of using a parenthetical phrase. The line saying the poet doesn’t want it to be a metaphor is a very effective, thought-provoking technique. And what an intruguing topic for a poem; I think it works very well. (And even though I normally wouldn’t care for making the noun “harbinger” into a verb, it seemed somehow necessary here.)
Hey Cynthia: Thank you. And I checked “harbinger” out before I used it. It can be a verb: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/harbinger. Hope all is well. P.S. People loved “The Lamb”.
Thank you, Jeffrey!
According to the speaker, the man in 2C has walled himself in–but said speaker claims to know the man’s position and inaction. It seems the despairing reek has unfurled upstairs.
Very astute of you, Margaret. I had my own very intense period of isolation (minus the hoarding) many years ago, and I think the reason the 2C situation impacted me so deeply and unshakably is that it tapped into my memory of that very unhappy, very lost time of my own life. So yes, I could picture the man very well. Thanks so much.
It may not have been the intent, but this seems almost a snapshot of the unique isolation of modern city living.
The ‘someone in 2C’ underscores the fact that the writer really knows nothing of the person (‘someone’) but then conjures very evocative images of squalor and loss based almost entirely on how bad the smell is. They’re probably right, but the writer does not necessarily *know* this – they’re filling in the blanks of an unknown space with presumed horror.
The symmetry of the writer commenting from within their *own* little numbered box, ruminating on the fall of someone else in *their* box is telling. It feeds into the feeling that they’re trying to downplay an anxiety that they themselves are quietly fighting against. A rising tide of pessimism, where they are slowly accruing doubts and despair much as the person in 2C is accruing physical debris and filth.
They are a fellow prisoner listening to someone in a cell further along from theirs bitterly weeping at night, and desperately attempting to find solace in the slippery delusion that such painful, awful sadness is an outlier, and not typical. Wishing they would just stop, so that the illusion of hope can return.
There’s almost a plea written between the lines – ‘there but for the grace of God go I’. The ‘elsewhere’ of the closing line feels like self-denial, in this context.
I may well be reading way, way too much into it, but it’s just how it struck me. I really enjoyed this, many thanks for sharing it Mr Essmann.
That the odour had reached your floor tells us how pathetic his room ‘s condition might have been. I don’t know how to express my sentiments towards this event, but all I wish for is sanity for anyone who is into such a mess. Thank you so much for bringing up this least-heard topic through your sonnet, Mr. Essmann.
Jeff, this is a most intriguing read… the provocatively woven words (that hint at something far more than meets the eye… and nose) have grabbed my imagination and taken it to places I had no intention of going. These clever lines: “I don’t want this to be a metaphor /For something wider, worse, that prowls the world…” do exactly what they say they don’t intend to… very effective indeed! A poem that I feel compelled to return to… great stuff!
2C or not 2C, that is the question: is it a metaphor or not? Methinks it is. Did Shakespeare’s monologue from Hamlet inspire you? Obviously, 2C is more than just an apartment number. It’s a glimpse into the abyss.
Paul is right, this poem is indeed disturbing, because on issue after issue – trans, immigration, BLM – society seems in the grip of a collective insanity. Through the motif of one unfortunate neighbour, you sum that up.
This is great! I especially like stanza 2, in which the speaker says he doesn’t want this to be a metaphor, which is exactly what it ends up being.
It seems that the whole world is turning into 2C, with an ever-shrinking minority of us still living on the third floor and suffering the effects of 2C’s problems.