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The Analyst: Poems
“Whatever the subject, rich music follows the tap of Molly Peacock’s baton.”― Washington Post When a psychoanalyst became a painter after surviving a stroke, her longtime patient, distinguished and beloved poet Molly Peacock, took up a unique task. Weaving an invigorating tapestry of images, Peacock’s poetry bears witness to a profound role reversal as its author looks back on a forty-year relationship with her one-time analyst, now friend.
128 pages, Paperback
Published July 17, 2018
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About the author
Molly Peacock
48 books129 followersMolly Peacock is a widely anthologized poet, biographer, memoirist, and New Yorker transplanted to Toronto, her adopted city.
Her newest biography is FLOWER DIARY: IN WHICH MARY HIESTER REID PAINTS, TRAVELS, MARRIES & OPENS A DOOR (ECW Press). "In prose as subtle and enchanting as Mary Hiester Reid's own brushstrokes, FLOWER DIARY paints a compelling portrait of a talented and unjustly neglected paiter. Molly Peacock is unfailingly sensitive and intelligent, and at times deeply moving, as she shows how, despite the shade of domestic life and the unfavorable climate of the times, MHR brought forth her bright blossoms," writes Ross King.
Molly's latest book of poems is THE ANALYST (W.W. Norton & Company) where she takes up a unique task: telling the story of her psychotherapist who survived a stroke by reconnecting with her girlhood talent for painting. Peacock’s latest work of nonfiction is THE PAPER GARDEN: MRS. DELANY BEGINS HER LIFE'S WORK AT 72, a Canadian bestseller, named a Book of the Year by The Economist, The Globe and Mail, The Irish Times, The London Evening Standard and Booklist, published in the US, UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand. “Like her glorious and multilayered collages, Delany is so vivid a character she almost jumps from the page,” Andrea Wulf wrote in The New York Times Book Review.
Molly ventured into short fiction with ALPHABETIQUE: 26 CHARACTERISTIC FICTIONS magically illustrated by Kara Kosaka, published by McClelland & Stewart. Her memoir, PARADISE, PIECE BY PIECE, about her choice not to have children, is now an e-book.
Molly is featured in MY SO-CALLED SELFISH LIFE, a documentary about choosing to be childfree by Trixifilms, and she is one of the subjects of Renee McCormick’s documentary, A LIFE WITHOUT CONVENTION, https://vimeo.com/178503153. As a New Yorker, she helped create Poetry in Motion on the subways and buses; in Toronto she founded THE BEST CANADIAN POETRY IN ENGLISH. Molly is the widow of Michael Groden, a James Joyce scholar.
Her newest biography is FLOWER DIARY: IN WHICH MARY HIESTER REID PAINTS, TRAVELS, MARRIES & OPENS A DOOR (ECW Press). "In prose as subtle and enchanting as Mary Hiester Reid's own brushstrokes, FLOWER DIARY paints a compelling portrait of a talented and unjustly neglected paiter. Molly Peacock is unfailingly sensitive and intelligent, and at times deeply moving, as she shows how, despite the shade of domestic life and the unfavorable climate of the times, MHR brought forth her bright blossoms," writes Ross King.
Molly's latest book of poems is THE ANALYST (W.W. Norton & Company) where she takes up a unique task: telling the story of her psychotherapist who survived a stroke by reconnecting with her girlhood talent for painting. Peacock’s latest work of nonfiction is THE PAPER GARDEN: MRS. DELANY BEGINS HER LIFE'S WORK AT 72, a Canadian bestseller, named a Book of the Year by The Economist, The Globe and Mail, The Irish Times, The London Evening Standard and Booklist, published in the US, UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand. “Like her glorious and multilayered collages, Delany is so vivid a character she almost jumps from the page,” Andrea Wulf wrote in The New York Times Book Review.
Molly ventured into short fiction with ALPHABETIQUE: 26 CHARACTERISTIC FICTIONS magically illustrated by Kara Kosaka, published by McClelland & Stewart. Her memoir, PARADISE, PIECE BY PIECE, about her choice not to have children, is now an e-book.
Molly is featured in MY SO-CALLED SELFISH LIFE, a documentary about choosing to be childfree by Trixifilms, and she is one of the subjects of Renee McCormick’s documentary, A LIFE WITHOUT CONVENTION, https://vimeo.com/178503153. As a New Yorker, she helped create Poetry in Motion on the subways and buses; in Toronto she founded THE BEST CANADIAN POETRY IN ENGLISH. Molly is the widow of Michael Groden, a James Joyce scholar.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
August 20, 2016
Peacock wrote this in tribute to her longtime psychoanalyst, Joan Workman Stein, who practiced in New York City until she suffered a stroke in 2012. This collection, forthcoming in January, contains a rich mixture of autobiographical reflection and translations. The form and style vary from poem to poem, but I was always struck by the imagery, often drawn from the culinary and art worlds – everything from marinara sauce and a skinned rabbit to paper dolls and methods of expressing gratitude in French. I presumed the entire book would be about Stein, but instead the poems about her pre- and post-stroke life share space with ones about Peacock’s own life, from childhood onward.
Having enjoyed The Paper Garden, the author’s biography of eighteenth-century artist Mary Delany, I was especially tickled to see several poems that mention collage and other paper arts, such as “Authors.” Meanwhile “Mandala in the Making,” the final poem, meditates on the contrast between the drive to make art and the essential impermanence of life: “When they’re done, // they’ll brush it all away. You can’t believe it. / Nothing stays (including the memory you’ve lost). / What lasts?” I was really impressed with this collection and will be searching out Peacock’s previous poetry as well.
A few favorite lines:
“It was as if you’d painted my cranium / as a fishbowl: there my ideas swam.” (from “Gusto”)
“This is a heaven of the fallen / where each fleck, each gold whorl, / each silver hinge gleams up in the murk / for its partner” (from “The Heaven of Lost Earrings”)
“The thousand hairline cracks in an aged face / match the hairline cracks in an aged cup” (from “A Face, A Cup”)
“Love-sadness prances across the flounces / of peach-gowned women in old-fashioned portraits” (from “In Our Unexpected Future,” about Anders Zorn’s paintings at the National Academy Museum)
Having enjoyed The Paper Garden, the author’s biography of eighteenth-century artist Mary Delany, I was especially tickled to see several poems that mention collage and other paper arts, such as “Authors.” Meanwhile “Mandala in the Making,” the final poem, meditates on the contrast between the drive to make art and the essential impermanence of life: “When they’re done, // they’ll brush it all away. You can’t believe it. / Nothing stays (including the memory you’ve lost). / What lasts?” I was really impressed with this collection and will be searching out Peacock’s previous poetry as well.
A few favorite lines:
“It was as if you’d painted my cranium / as a fishbowl: there my ideas swam.” (from “Gusto”)
“This is a heaven of the fallen / where each fleck, each gold whorl, / each silver hinge gleams up in the murk / for its partner” (from “The Heaven of Lost Earrings”)
“The thousand hairline cracks in an aged face / match the hairline cracks in an aged cup” (from “A Face, A Cup”)
“Love-sadness prances across the flounces / of peach-gowned women in old-fashioned portraits” (from “In Our Unexpected Future,” about Anders Zorn’s paintings at the National Academy Museum)
January 13, 2017
By Gwenn A. Nusbaum
As a poet and psychoanalyst, I am in awe and almost spellbound by how much ground
Molly Peacock covers in her beautiful new book. I read it from so many levels. “The Pottery Jar” floats through my mind and soul, resonating deeply. How well I know these places of mutual recognition and gratitude amid the sacred spaces held between patient and analyst. And of course there is Ms. Peacock’s style—her rhymes, rhythm and line breaks that carry the reader in that way poets do, that she does easily seemingly. Her use of play illuminates and lightens the darker sides of life—trauma, aging and mortality. Oh and how I love that line: “The fog that rolled in stays in, like age.” As someone who both teaches and learns, these rich and generous poems embody a sterling, adroitly crafted portrait of mutual courage, commitment and the capacity to transform and evolve in that way we humans do. I recommend this book wholeheartedly.
As a poet and psychoanalyst, I am in awe and almost spellbound by how much ground
Molly Peacock covers in her beautiful new book. I read it from so many levels. “The Pottery Jar” floats through my mind and soul, resonating deeply. How well I know these places of mutual recognition and gratitude amid the sacred spaces held between patient and analyst. And of course there is Ms. Peacock’s style—her rhymes, rhythm and line breaks that carry the reader in that way poets do, that she does easily seemingly. Her use of play illuminates and lightens the darker sides of life—trauma, aging and mortality. Oh and how I love that line: “The fog that rolled in stays in, like age.” As someone who both teaches and learns, these rich and generous poems embody a sterling, adroitly crafted portrait of mutual courage, commitment and the capacity to transform and evolve in that way we humans do. I recommend this book wholeheartedly.
January 5, 2017
Just finished reading Molly Peacock’s gorgeous collection of poetry that is also a stirring homage to a mentor and friend. When the poet’s long-time analyst suffers a stroke, the dynamic between caregiver and caretaker shifts. The wise and elegant analyst is suddenly vulnerable, which sends the writer down a labyrinth of memory lanes: some gleaming, some tragic—all explored by patient and dedicated therapist. This music in Peacock’s poetry is a gift to the ear while the tender relationship explored is a gift to the heart and proof that healing, however imperfect, can actually happen. Highly, highly recommended.
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June 8, 2019First read: June 8, 2019, Saturday
" Only when something's over
can its shape materialize."
-"Mandala in the Making"
THE HEAVEN OF LOST EARRINGS
Go down the grate after the green
agate scarab with the frowny face,
then through the damp and the dark
—the heaven of lost earrings is not
a bright place. Curl with the crumbs
in the corner of a pocket in
the discarded clothing bin,
then climb up the unzippered flap
of a suitcase and meet me
next to the severed pearl.
In the velvet dark of reattachment,
through beach sand and grime
in lintballs, dustballs, dirtballs soft
as the earlobes they were lost from,
next to the carved blue lapis orb—
through the crack in the floor, beneath
the taxi seat, in the accordion seam
of a subway train, in the airplane toilet
on another plane altogether where a low
moan replaces the harp and keens,
"There must be two, there must be two,"
hurtling toward the midnight of reunions
where everyone forgets what started
their arguments, why one unclasped
so suddenly, or the other's stud just
dropped without a sound to bury itself
in a carpet in a lobby, and the loop
that contained the red droplet
with its cloisonné leaf sprang
down the cleft in an elevator shaft
after it, almost like Orpheus calling
for Eurydice, meet me.
The heaven
of lost earrings is not a hell, though
it's dark down there that becomes up here
on the other side of the world where
memories surface, carrying their own light
unlike the heaven of the airy risen.
This is a heaven of the fallen
where each fleck, each gold whorl,
each silver hinge gleams up in the murk
for its partner, searching through the rubble,
sniffing for the buttony smell of the other
till they click and clasp their clasps
or slide long wires into their studs at last
and glow not as on a stage or even in the light
of a windowsill, but as in the warmth
of an unmade bed just left by the gods
up hungry for their nectar, now
nestling along, forgotten but for a stab
in the nerve-end lightning of a memory flash.
Meet me down there in the fold.
" Only when something's over
can its shape materialize."
-"Mandala in the Making"
THE HEAVEN OF LOST EARRINGS
Go down the grate after the green
agate scarab with the frowny face,
then through the damp and the dark
—the heaven of lost earrings is not
a bright place. Curl with the crumbs
in the corner of a pocket in
the discarded clothing bin,
then climb up the unzippered flap
of a suitcase and meet me
next to the severed pearl.
In the velvet dark of reattachment,
through beach sand and grime
in lintballs, dustballs, dirtballs soft
as the earlobes they were lost from,
next to the carved blue lapis orb—
through the crack in the floor, beneath
the taxi seat, in the accordion seam
of a subway train, in the airplane toilet
on another plane altogether where a low
moan replaces the harp and keens,
"There must be two, there must be two,"
hurtling toward the midnight of reunions
where everyone forgets what started
their arguments, why one unclasped
so suddenly, or the other's stud just
dropped without a sound to bury itself
in a carpet in a lobby, and the loop
that contained the red droplet
with its cloisonné leaf sprang
down the cleft in an elevator shaft
after it, almost like Orpheus calling
for Eurydice, meet me.
The heaven
of lost earrings is not a hell, though
it's dark down there that becomes up here
on the other side of the world where
memories surface, carrying their own light
unlike the heaven of the airy risen.
This is a heaven of the fallen
where each fleck, each gold whorl,
each silver hinge gleams up in the murk
for its partner, searching through the rubble,
sniffing for the buttony smell of the other
till they click and clasp their clasps
or slide long wires into their studs at last
and glow not as on a stage or even in the light
of a windowsill, but as in the warmth
of an unmade bed just left by the gods
up hungry for their nectar, now
nestling along, forgotten but for a stab
in the nerve-end lightning of a memory flash.
Meet me down there in the fold.
March 19, 2017
Molly Peacock came to Seattle and read from The Analyst. She talked about her 38 years in therapy with this same therapist at different times in her life and how important it was for her growth into the poet she became. The analyst had a stroke and Molly became involved. Within the book are two thank you poems listing the many points of gratitude she holds for her psychoanalysist. This is a beautiful, well written book filled with memories and love.
Molly is a master of forms and this book is masterful. Fascinating subject written with true passion in beautiful language. I'm glad I was able to hear her read and read the book with her voice in my head, but that is not necessary in this eloquent book.
Molly is a master of forms and this book is masterful. Fascinating subject written with true passion in beautiful language. I'm glad I was able to hear her read and read the book with her voice in my head, but that is not necessary in this eloquent book.
July 6, 2017
Series of poems about the poet's relationship with her psychoanalyst after the analyst has strokes, stops working and starts painting. I enjoyed the narrative to format to these touching poems that explore more than a doctor-patient relationship. Some poems stand on their own outside the general narrative Mandala in the Making, The Art of the Stroke (a golden shovel), and Mount Anger. I enjoyed her poem on how to say thank you in French. Peacock mixes different styles of poetry so each poem is different. Innovative. Could be read in one sitting and then returned to several times.
February 2, 2017
This book of poems is terrific! Peacock's voice in these poems feels different to me—I wouldn’t say quirkier but perhaps more free? It seems to relish breaking rules—much as she and her analyst have broken the rules of what one might expect from the APA policy. I really really love the book’s vibrancy, and the lift and lilt that spring up in the poems. These poems have SHAPE! And the rhythms are alive for me. I’ve been complaining for some time (grouch, grouch) that I don’t hear much music in poems I’m running across but I hear it loud and clear in this work. It’s made my heart thump in a little jig as you rev me up—and then pull me down and into intimate disclosures. This is not to say I haven’t loved her other books/poems (I’m a Molly fan) but this book especially makes me appreciate her range, that she never sits still, that she is always trying to push toward something new. And again I’m grateful in The Analyst that those music and rhythms are perfectly attuned for this particular book, these particular poems, this particular way of looking at love and friendship. A joy to read.
May 27, 2017
Anyone who has ever seen a therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist, or those who are even curious about this type of relationship-will find that this book resonates with them. Not only is the book about the powerful connection that can develop between patient and clinician, but, it also illustrates how situations can change on the flip of a dime...and we never know what that change will entail.
In Peacock's case, her therapist of 40 years succumbed to a stroke which resulted in a role reversal, as Peacock became her therapist's pillar of strength as she had been for Peacock over the previous four decades. There's a captivating intimacy shared in this book between patient and clinician woven with compassion and a great deal of wit.
As a friend and someone who has worked with Peacock, I cannot offer enough kudos for the kind of poet she is and the enthusiasm she has for poetry. I have so many favorite poems in this collection, but an excerpt of "Ruby Roses, Kiss Goodbye," gets to the heart of the relationship: "You, who saved me from hardening/let me know harden now/but walk into the world, disarmed/yet escorted by these emissaries/two ruby rose earrings, in echo/of years ago, when I passed my hand,/arm brushing my ear as I sobbed,/back to you behind me in your chair..."
This book is amazingly crafted, with skill, precision and unmatched creativity, just like all of Peacock's work.
In Peacock's case, her therapist of 40 years succumbed to a stroke which resulted in a role reversal, as Peacock became her therapist's pillar of strength as she had been for Peacock over the previous four decades. There's a captivating intimacy shared in this book between patient and clinician woven with compassion and a great deal of wit.
As a friend and someone who has worked with Peacock, I cannot offer enough kudos for the kind of poet she is and the enthusiasm she has for poetry. I have so many favorite poems in this collection, but an excerpt of "Ruby Roses, Kiss Goodbye," gets to the heart of the relationship: "You, who saved me from hardening/let me know harden now/but walk into the world, disarmed/yet escorted by these emissaries/two ruby rose earrings, in echo/of years ago, when I passed my hand,/arm brushing my ear as I sobbed,/back to you behind me in your chair..."
This book is amazingly crafted, with skill, precision and unmatched creativity, just like all of Peacock's work.
March 23, 2017
Poems to and about Peacock's therapist after her stroke and subsequent retirement. The relationship continues as a friendship, slightly unequal considering all the knowledge the therapist possesses of Peacock's life. Also includes poems about the traumas that led Peacock to therapy, which makes me want to read more of her poetry and her memoir, Paradise, Piece by Piece (which is specifically about "her decision not to have children," as her bio says). Peacock's life story comes through the poems in a way I've tried (and failed) to do in mine, so I admire her storytelling - without being strictly narrative, she gives enough of a foothold in the events of her life with the crafting of poetry, the bits-and-pieces of panicked flashbacks, the revelations of therapy, and calmness of recovery. Combined with genuine affection and gratitude for her analyst as well as poignant details about her stroke and disabilities, these poems are a tribute to both the woman and her work.
June 9, 2018
A dysphasic collection of poetry, never quite able to connect form with substance and feeling, caused by difficulty to accept what is and painful blockage of past trauma—yet also a heroic effort to use the therapeutic power of poetry to seek her own cure.
“Only when / something’s over can its shape materialize.” —Molly Peacock, “Mandala in the Making”
“Only when / something’s over can its shape materialize.” —Molly Peacock, “Mandala in the Making”
January 22, 2020
Powerfully beautiful descriptions of a 30+ year long therapeutic relationship that became a friendship. Love the poems that highlight the analyst’s skills and how therapy helps people often by mere presence and acceptance rather than any specific intervention or “solution”
February 19, 2022
RATING: 3.5 STARS
A hauntingly beautiful collection of poetry. In this series, Molly Peacock writes about her analyst, who suffered a stroke and then picked up painting. Peacock as her longtime patient, gives us a glimpse of what it is like when someone you rely on is needing help. There were a few poems that just hit me so hard. It reminded me of certain scenes from my own life, if not exactly the same, there were emotions that I felt.
A hauntingly beautiful collection of poetry. In this series, Molly Peacock writes about her analyst, who suffered a stroke and then picked up painting. Peacock as her longtime patient, gives us a glimpse of what it is like when someone you rely on is needing help. There were a few poems that just hit me so hard. It reminded me of certain scenes from my own life, if not exactly the same, there were emotions that I felt.
October 13, 2017
I loved Peacock's bio of Mrs. Delany, but couldn't warm up to her poetry, alas.
April 15, 2019
I wish I had a relationship with a therapist like Peacock does with hers. There were several lovely poems in here and the imagery was absolutely beautiful. Well done.
February 22, 2017
Some of Molly's best work ever!
August 9, 2019
Molly Peacock has this way of making even the tragic parts of life seem colorful and whimsical. I was fortunate enough to meet her at a reading at my university.
These poems, of which many are a tribute to her psychoanalyst who stopped practicing after she suffered a stroke, explore themes such as the roles of caregiver and caretaker, friendship, memory, and gratitude, and are packed with imagery. I found it hard to become personally invested in many of them, but enjoyed them nonetheless. I would definitely recommend reading a Molly Peacock book in your life. I hope to pick up another one one day.
These poems, of which many are a tribute to her psychoanalyst who stopped practicing after she suffered a stroke, explore themes such as the roles of caregiver and caretaker, friendship, memory, and gratitude, and are packed with imagery. I found it hard to become personally invested in many of them, but enjoyed them nonetheless. I would definitely recommend reading a Molly Peacock book in your life. I hope to pick up another one one day.
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April 1, 2017Moving, beautifully written. Echoes with her memoir, Piece by Piece.
April 14, 2017
An Analyst after a terrible stroke is encouraged by her patient of 20 years to take up painting.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews