THE MIRACLE MACHINE

A 19th-century automaton and other museum exhibits narrate this collection of poems.

As Pennock explains in a note to readers, the “primary speaker of these poems is L’Automate D’Maillardet,” a mechanism built around 1800 by a Swiss clockmaker; it could produce drawings and poems. At some point, impresario P.T. Barnum acquired the automaton for his museum. Other Barnum exhibits also speak here, such as “Ned the Learnéd Seal” and the “Feejee Mermaid,” the first, a living trained animal and the second, a mummified monkey and fish sewn together. Often throughout the collection, winner of the Gival Press Poetry Award, beauty and the idea of beauty are corrupted by Barnum’s huckster grotesquerie. The mermaid is no lovely creature but a monstrous joining by someone who “smells of linen passed between / unwashed hands, and—strangely—of buttered popcorn.” The automaton is in love with the “One-Eyed Girl,” a ticket taker, his passion expressed in dignified and poetic terms. She’s like the moon, with “One unblinking eye, perfectly round, unblinking / The palest gold, with a hint of green.” As for Barnum, it’s rumored that he is responsible for the girl’s lost eye, having “done it himself, / gouged it out ’cause she wouldn’t be his whore.” Despair and rage inhabit these inventive and eerie poems. Looming over the moving collection is the fire that destroys the museum and horrifyingly kills its animals. Nevertheless, the speakers here—the damaged and abused; the dead, animal, or artificial—possess all the humanity and art, something Pennock’s language skillfully emphasizes through literary qualities like assonance, alliteration, and internal rhyme. On the automaton’s lovesickness, the Learnéd Seal predicts that “if this distemper / persists, first his imagination will dry.” To this, Barnum responds “with a solemn scratch / of” the Seal’s “head and a votive of cod.”

Uncanny, heart-wrenching, and beautifully crafted poems by an original voice.