JC Holburn’s debut chapbook DRIBS (pitymilk press, 2021) exists in the wake of the grief that comes with divorce. Holburn reveals the impulsive need to self-destruct and, at the same time, remake yourself entirely. She writes in title-less poems of the moments long past lost when you realize you were indeed part of the problem and how you can find comfort—and a little arousal—in that self-awareness.
The two opening poems casually engage with the political, putting it side by side with the personal to reflect on the speaker’s emotional decline: “At the end of the day, I’m too drained to want for much. / Just a lukewarm bath and rigorous taxation on wealth.” The speaker notes her stagnation, having only “go[ne] so far” and being “matter of fact.” She moves on, if only slightly, without getting better.
In the third poem, the speaker reflects on having quit smoking—an unpleasant experience that makes her wish she hadn’t. Even more unpleasant, it reminds her of her ex, of how they would smoke and change their liquor of choice according to the seasons. The speaker is disappointed in herself, in how she has the ability to change but could still choose to remain the same. She could still “meet you at the bar in five minutes.”
As the collection continues, the speaker realizes her guilt more and more, concerning herself with forgiveness and punishment. She recognizes the points in her relationship where she was wrong. She explores what it means to not have truly known her ex, to have seen them unclearly. In the process, we learn that we don’t know the full story, and that when we do, it very well may be too late.
In the eighth poem, the speaker shows her near-erratic stream of consciousness and removes nearly all punctuation. In an exercise simply meant to keep her awake, she takes responsibility for her failed relationship. Holburn pushes further and gives the speaker a heightened, if not faulty, sense of awareness: “You can blame me for everything.” It is a gut-punching realization, one that spills into the middle pieces of the collection as the speaker diverges into a fast, dizzying discussion of womanhood and age.
Holburn takes the time to shift the perspective briefly from first to third person. Here, the speaker wanders through an airport, reading a magazine. She, an older woman, regards herself as unpleasant and lacking “the endearing, sympathetic cureness that comes to old hunched over men.” When she feels limited by her age and gender, she counts it as a virtue and not a curse. Perhaps it is easier to choose when there are fewer options.
The narration turns to an attempt at moving on. How do we move on from “rot” to the resilience that water bears have? How do we move on to awful and boring, or to admiration and learning? How do we move on to love again? The poem starts with a near search-engine property and ends without a conclusion: “This is how we say cheers to all that.” Perhaps we don’t need to know the answers to our questions—simply wanting them is enough.
Near the end of DRIBS, we move more into the subtle eroticism of the text. We’re exposed to that post-relationship time when you’ve decided that you’re ready to move on from your ex, be that to another person or to a cabin in the woods completely alone. Either way, you know it’s time to give up on them.
The penultimate poem deals in hypotheticals: “If this then that” and “if I saw you in the afterlife,” among others. The speaker speculates various possibilities and decides: “I would / regard you as any other regular enemy of mine.” She ends the poem with one last hypothetical addressed presumably to her ex, stating that she “wouldn’t know how to make it more palatable.” How else could she say her feelings, while comforting the recipient, without censoring herself? How else could we?
JC Holburn’s collection is rich, powerful, and relatable in a way that makes you feel uneasy. You process and grow alongside the speaker, from the moments when she wants to destroy herself to her remaking and self-actualization. By the last poem, you’ll feel transformed, being “otherwise known as” just like the speaker.
DRIBS is available from pitymilk press
Mack Ibrahim is a second-year at Wheaton College in Illinois. They are majoring English with a Writing concentration and minoring in Studio Art. Their hobbies include obsessively reading the webnovel Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, going to concerts, and making memes for their D&D group.
