Riverwood Presbyterian Church

General Theology

A Riff on Alcatraz

by Jimmy Hopper

Last week Riverwood published a poem in the Reflections page of the bulletin that has fascinated and even haunted me. The poet is Sharon Olds and it can be found in her book, The Gold Cell. It’s title is Alcatraz and is printed below.

Alcatraz

When I was a girl, I knew I was a man

because they might send me to Alcatraz

and only men went to Alcatraz.

Every time we drove to the city I’d

see it there, white as a white

shark in the shark-rich Bay, the bars like

milk-white ribs. I knew I had pushed my

parents too far, my inner badness had

spread like ink and taken me over, I could

not control my terrible thoughts,

terrible looks, and they had often said

that they would send me there-maybe the very next

time I spilled my milk, Ala

Cazam, the iron doors would slam, I’d be

there where I belonged, a girl-faced man in the

prison no one had escaped from. I did not

fear the other prisoners,

I knew who they were, men like me who had

spilled their milk one time too many,

not been able to curb their thoughts—

what I feared was the horror of the circles: circle of

sky around the earth, circle of

land around the Bay, circle of

water around the island, circle of

sharks around the shore, circle of

outer walls, inner walls,

iron girders, steel bars,

circle of my cell around me, and there at the

center, the glass of milk AND the guard’s

eyes upon me as I reached out for it.

My first exposure to this was on my car radio and Garrison Keillor reading it on his Writer’s Almanac program. I rushed to the computer and found it; reading and then hearing it again. I was amazed at the imagery and form, particularly from a poet whose name I did not know; and, if she is secular rather than Christian, the poem really is an amazing document in that it describes a totally Calvinistic view. However, on second thought, the Calvinistic/Christian view is the true view of the human condition, and is certainly accessible to poets.

In the poem, we see a young girl living in San Francisco whose parents tell her that when she does something wrong, does enough wrong, she will be sent to Alcatraz. She is sensitive (a poet to be) and when her parents drive to the city she can see the prison on its island in the bay. She sees herself as a (girl-faced) man, because she knows that she is guilty and only men are punished the way she has been told that she will be punished. The description of her “sins” is so accurate; “inner blackness had spread like ink and taken me over,” “terrible thoughts and terrible looks I could not control.” Then we have the brilliance of the small thing, spilling her milk, and we get the impression that her parents made a very large affair of every sin and shortcoming.

So she goes, in her mind, to Alcatraz. The magic words that send her, “Ala Cazam,” is split between two lines; the magic in the “Ala” and the slam of the iron door almost echoes in the “Cazam.” Here she is with her kind; with the sinners, those who do wrong and there is no fear of them. Her fear is inward, described as a series of ever decreasing circles, until it ends in the circle of the milk glass, and she is watched to see if she spills it. One of the images is the circle of sharks, and the prison itself is white in contrast to the inky badness in her; “a white shark in the shark rich bay.”

This is a very Biblical picture. The “badness” is inside; it is also outside in the tiniest of sins, even in spilling your milk. There is no hope for perfection, no chance to measure up to your “parents” standard. The poem doesn’t address the answer, and rightly so; it is not a religious tract and would lose the power of its picture, but we, trapped in our circles, inside ourselves; knowing of our sin as she knows of her sin, have the Gospel and have redemption. We are the ones who will escape from the place “no one has ever escaped from.” We will never be trapped in the circle of sharks and the circle of ourselves and our guilt, but have been freed.