Live Fast, Die Never: Iambic Pentameter in Gwendolyn Brooks’s “The Rites for Cousin Vit”
Sonnets are traditionally composed of four quatrains and an ending couplet. This typically manifests in an abab, cdcd, efef, gg pattern of iambic pentameter, which is itself a sort of bouncing rhythm that relies on how the iambs in each line are arranged. This semi-complex arrangement has earned the sonnet a bad reputation among reluctant high school English students. Despite its lasting popularity across the centuries, it is often dismissed as archaic, constricting, or just plain difficult. The form’s most common subject, romantic love, does little to redeem its reputation. Indeed, it seems to make sonnets seem even more artificial and repetitive to its less adoring readers. However, the form is more complex than it is often given credit for. Its possible subjects are as numerous as any other form, and it has been modernized time and time again. Even the love described within its seemingly strict iambic pentameter can take numerous forms—love for one’s God, or one’s nation, or, in the case of Gwendolyn Brooks’s “The Rites for Cousin Vit,” one’s friend.
The poem serves, as the title implies, as a eulogy for the titular Cousin Vit. While the poet excellently maintains the form’s seemingly restrictive rules, each line is filled with punchy, explosive language—sharp sounds, tactile imagery, purposeful syntax, and a vivid movement that is carried throughout the entirety of the poem by its iambic pentameter. It is as if the speaker is bringing Cousin Vit back to life. Or perhaps more accurately, Cousin Vit never died in the traditional sense at all. Although she is described as having been “carried unprotesting out the door” in the first line, the second, which is ruptured by the sharp alliteration in “kicked back the casket-stand,” shows us that she is not some stone-faced corpse (Brooks 307). The sounds convey movement, action. The end rhyme of this line, “can’t hold her,” and the end rhyme of the following, “aiming to enfold her” reemphasize this struggle, literally doubling down on how death is trying (and failing) to constrain her. Briefly, the poet is overwhelmed by Vit’s death. She admits that the loss is “Too much. Too much.” and yet, the iambic pattern is not broken, preserving that bouncy rhythm and carrying the poem—and Vit’s postmortem life—forward (Brooks 307).
It is here that we enter the most animated, vividly alive and tactile portion of the poem. Brook tells us that “even now”—a phrase that will be repeated— Vit “rises in sunshine”, invoking an almost Christ-like image of awakening (Brooks 307). Even now, after dying, she stands beneath the sun, which is often symbolic of life. Brook describes how Vit revisits old bars and old lovers, carefully maintaining present-tense in contrast to the past-tense stillness of that first line. “Even now,” Brook repeats, reminding us that death has done nothing to impede her, Vit does the “snake-hips with a hiss” (Brooks 307). This alliteration reinforces the rhythm established through the iambic pentameter, carrying us smoothly and excitedly into the next lines, where we see more of her personality. Vit “slaps” bad wine and indulges in fine silks (Brooks 307). Again, the two end rhymes of two different lines—“talks” and “walks”—are used to underscore a certain meaning. These are short and snappy actions, sharply reminding us of how the echo of her movement and speech is still felt and heard even now. More alliteration is used in the final two lines of the poem, as Vit “haply” walks the line between “happiness, haply hysterics” (Brooks 307). It is clear that she is a woman of extremes, bouncing (much like the iambic pattern itself) between highs and lows. It further pushes the contrast between her current state of simultaneous life and death.
The final line of the poem serves as a last reminder of her presence. It begins and ends with one word: “Is.” This contradicts the rambling enjambment of the previous lines, which seemed to roll over themselves to mirror Vit’s own live fast, die never attitude. The abrupt stop is not completely out of place, however. Earlier in the poem, the phrase “Must emerge,” breaks the line in half, echoing the previous imagery of rising in sunshine (Brooks 307). It reminds you of her sheer force of will, of her lasting presence. This concluding word, “Is”, serves the same purpose. She is not some corpse laying in “stuff and satin” (Brooks 307). She is the living embodiment of present-tense. She is alive. She is here. She Is.
Brooks, Gwendolyn. “The Rites for Cousin Vit.” An Exaltation of Forms: Contemporary Poets Celebrate the Diversity of Their Art. Edited by Anne Finch and Katherine Varnes, U of Michigan P, 2002, pp. 307.
Hacker, Marilyn. “The Sonnet.” An Exaltation of Forms: Contemporary Poets Celebrate the Diversity of Their Art. Edited by Anne Finch and Katherine Varnes, U of Michigan P, 2002, pp. 297–307.
