Mouthfeel #2 - Sibilance (s and sh)

So I thought Mouthfeel was it, but I hate that title a lot more than I did last time. Anticipate a change again. If you didn’t see the last one, it’s here. It’s worth noting that although I’m very much inspired by Robert Pinsky and his book The Sound of Poetry, a lot of what I do here would probably be considered antithetical to what Pinsky suggested in the introduction of that book. He wanted to avoid the one-to-one relationship of sound and feeling, and I largely agree with that. My overarching thesis is not that you (and everyone else who reads a particular poem) feels the same exact, but rather that sound can help emphasize a particular feeling if the content of the piece matches it. An apple doesn’t have to bring to mind biblical allusions of temptation, but if it does, it doesn’t take too large of a leap to get there. Last time I zoned in on some vowels that can slow down the pacing of a line and, as a result, a piece. Today I’m focusing on the hush and hiss of sibilance.

The “s” sound is breath pressed thin through the teeth. It brings to mind interjections heavy with their own meaning, like the conspiratorial psst or the judgmental tsk. I can also remember the really fucking awkward period of time when it was common to hear guys harass women walking by with a psssss. There is a sort of menace built into the sound, calling to mind a reptilian hiss or a gas leak. The addition of an h widens the sound into a totally different interjection. Suddenly it’s the shush that calms the room or sounds like wind moving through leaves. The h softens the sound significantly. Try switching between the two, starting with a long sssssssss sound before shifting to a shhhh.

Let’s see it in some poems.

Joseph Hutchison, A Natural History
“feeding in my chest—/ red swallow, red/ excretion...those soft/ devouring kisses.”
This entire piece hums with that sibilant wetness, which is convenient for a poem taking place by the tide. Hutchison uses the sounds to create something that is erotic and grotesque at once. But that duality exists naturally all the time. The erotic is kind of grotesque by default if there isn’t arousal. And this poem, clinical and reflective, is definitely not attempting arousal. The hiss of the s, particularly the suction-like “soft / devouring kisses” creates a vacuum in the mouth. That s pulls air inward while describing an act of taking in. Maya C. Popa, After
“December a descant and a North Star/ like a North Star./ Twice a day, the sun.”
Sounds can transform to fit a need. This time the sibilance takes on a rhythmic shake that sets the musical tone for the line and a conceptual tone for the poem. My mental image here is the ssss of a guiro keeping time for the rest of the instruments as a breathy rasp instead of a bite. The repetition of the sounds, their symmetry through the line, and that final “sun” pinning it all together use sibilance to remind us of the cyclical nature of everything. The descant, the star, and the sun all ride high above, bright and repeating, keeping the tempo.

Fady Joudah, Leaves, Glass
“Autumn eggshells/ toward a gazelle/ who doesn’t care if she’s being watched/ so long as no sound startles.”
This is a totally different kind of sibilance. I love that “so long as no sound startles.” It feels like it’s folding back onto itself. Like some sally sells seashells level of spiraling, but with a hesitance. The sounds devolve into a whisper, mirroring the poem’s nervous feel. It also cancels out the simple rhyme built into the first couplet, deflating the echo to deliver on a larger point of restraint. The poem starts out like it wants to sing but ends up holding its breath caught on those heavy consonants in “startles.”

Now, take sibilance for a ride for yourself. Grab a stanza you love and mark every s and sh. Read it once straight, then again exaggerating the hiss and the hush. Make sure you just listen at first rather than analyzing anything. See what the sound adds (or maybe even ruins).