‘Tilted Tales’: Three Poems by Susan Jarvis Bryant

Clueless

—a villanelle

How can I tell what is and isn’t true
In daffy days that stupefy the wise?
I’m sifting through the chaos for a clue.

As brain cells dwindle to a fruitless few
All down to AI’s messianic rise,
How can I tell what is and isn’t true?

In windmill-tilting realms of cuckoo hue
Where green machines swipe swallows from the skies,
I’m sifting through the chaos for a clue.

Now toddlers think in twinkly pink and blue
And womanhood is worn by wily guys,
How can I tell what is and isn’t true?

As sharks and shills confess their expert view
Was just a vexing pack of vaxing lies,
I’m sifting through the chaos for a clue.

I hear the fat cats bark and asses coo.
I smell the dirty dogs with shifty eyes.
How can I tell what is and isn’t true?
I’m sifting through the chaos for a clue.

Till I Cry

—a triolet

Our orb grows odder by the minute—
My cheery chortles bring release.
I’ll howl when odd has reached its limit.
Our orb grows odder by the minute.
It’s saner with a snigger in it—
These days my giggles never cease.
Our orb grows odder by the minute—
My teary chortles bring release.

Once Upon a Tortured Trope

Don’t ever judge crooks by their lovers, they say
_On book covers nailed to the wall.
The frog sends his kiss at the bend of the day
_To Belle who is beast of the ball.

As tough as a cucumber, cool as old boots,
_An untroubled damsel of flair
Is shooting for stars. When the pussy-owl hoots
_She snares a short prince with blonde hair.

They sail inky skies on a silver-lined dream
_To greener scenes up in the hills.
But honey and moons aren’t as sweet as they seem
_When cats and dogs reign and milk spills.

His rose bears a thorn and his shoulder, a chip.
_Hyenas have stolen his laughter.
All charm hits the skids as she grapples to slip
_The grip of his gripe ever after.

First published in Snakeskin

Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.

Joseph S. Salemi June 19, 2025

“Clueless” and “Till I Cry” are solid evidence that the old French forms are still alive and well. The first is a perfect snapshot of a world gone stark, raving mad, or “batshit-crazy,” as we say in Noo Yawk. The second is more personal, and necessarily condensed in the shorter triolet form. It speaks of an odd world, and asserts that the human reaction to that oddness is either laughter or tears. The rhyme and meter are flawless in both poems.

I find “Once Upon a Tortured Trope” to be much denser, and harder to unravel critically. The dominant dactylic stresses really pound the reader, and the intricate winding together of stress, rhyme, and a majority of monosyllabic words conceals the subject somewhat.

The basic account seems to be of a courtship and marriage of a damsel (or “Belle”) to a prince (or a frog). They set off on dreams to a honeymoon that turns sour. The prince is revealed to be unpleasant or offensive in some manner, and the damsel forlornly hopes that she can someday escape from him.

This could be read as a parodic version of the typical fairy-tale myth about a poor girl realizing her romantic dream of being chosen by Prince Charming, with the reverse ending of how the whole business turns out badly. But the proverbial goodness and innocence of the girl is subverted by the words that she is “As tough as a cucumber, cool as old boots” (a nice reversal!), and she is an “untroubled damsel of flair” as she goes “shooting for stars.” In other words she’s a sophisticated woman on the make, looking to marry a prince. Instead of a fairy tale, it is a real-world narrative of mundane husband-hunting.

The whole poem plays with cliche statements by changing or inverting them in some manner. Examples:

Don’t judge books by their covers
It’s raining cats and dogs
The end of the day
Shoot for the stars
Spilt milk
Roses have thorns
To have a chip on your shoulder

I’m sure there are other common phrases that Susan has taken apart and revised here for comic or satiric purposes. But the more important point is this: Susan is acting as a “maker” here — that is, a poet. She’s using her knowledge of language and of received texts and she is refiguring both things to make an utterly new verbal product. No wonder Susan uses “Tortured Trope” in the title! The romantic Cinderella myth is retold in a more worldly-wise fashion, common phrases are bent to suit new purposes, and we end with a rotten marriage that is a lot truer to real life than the Cinderella story. This is fictive mimesis!