TO THE ROMAN FORUM
After my daughter Katherine was born
I was terribly excited
I think I would have been measured at the twenty-five-espresso mark
We—Janice, now Katherine, and I—were in Rome
(Janice gave birth at the international hospital on top of Trastevere)
I went down and sat and looked at the ruins of you
I gazed at them, gleaming in the half-night
And thought, Oh my, My God, My goodness, a child, a wife.
While I was sitting there, a friend, a sculptor, came by
I just had a baby, I said. I mean Janice did. I'm—
I thought I'd look at some very old great things
To match up with this new one. Oh, Adya said,
I guess you'd like to be alone, then. Congratulations. Goodnight.
Thank you. Goodnight, I said. Adya departed.
Next day I saw Janice and Katherine.
Here they are again and have nothing to do with you
A pure force swept through me another time
I am here, they are here, this has happened.
It is happening now, it happened then.
---Kenneth Koch
Kenneth Koch's To The Roman Forum
Without motive or expectation, without distortion or distinction, sincerity is fresh as the cool morning air. Sincerity is so difficult for some folks because it requires vulnerability, and thus it requires trust. Who is to say that in being sincere you'll not be taken advantage of, or judged, or made to feel bad about yourself? Fear of being sincere is rarely talked about, and yet it drives so many of us to create versions of ourselves that are fabricated, versions with stiff hearts that limit expressions of emotion, versions of ourselves that have built protection to weather the harsh cruelties that life, and our fellow humans, will most certainly supply us with. It takes courage and resolve to be sincere, to open yourself up to the world and to let others into the tender parts of yourself. Sincerity is natural early in life, and then it fades as a concurrent side effect of growing up, but some adults retain it. Kenneth Koch retained, and possibly rediscovered, his sincerity with the birth of his daughter Katherine. He documents this amazing moment in his life in his poem To The Roman Forum. Filled with overwhelming joy and attempting to digest the gravity of his new situation, Koch retreats for a respite at the ruins of the Roman Forum. His sincerity as he ponders what the moment means and what it will come to mean later in life is magical. I hope to someday have children and when those moments arrive in my life I also hope to have a moment to myself like Kenneth Koch does in this poem, a moment of wonder and serenity, and absolute sincerity.
Every time I read this poem I'm struck by how honest this poem is. You read the poem and feel like you're inside Kenneth Koch's brain, navigating the curves and straightaways of life with him. This unfettered access is a product of his sincerity. Pretty soon I'm going to get sick of using that word, sincerity, over and over again in this essay, but not yet. Koch is excited and honest in the first few lines of the poem, sharing with readers the root of his excitement (his daughter Katherine's birth) and how it made him feel and act (“I think I would have been measured at the twenty-five-espresso mark”). The espresso comment also serves to set up the poem's location, which we learn is Rome in the poem's next line. As if we are friends or family members, Koch informs us of the exact hospital and location where Janice, his wife, gave birth. We feel included and invited into this important event in the Koch family. It is such a personal event, but somehow Koch beckons us in without being showy or artificial. And we accept, moving with him to “the ruins of you,” Koch's clever way of linking the poem's title: To The Roman Forum. We might assume that the poem would be addressed to his wife or new daughter, but Koch addresses it to the ancient and crumbling Roman Forum. It is where his epiphany takes place and so this spot acquires a gigantic significance in his life. Koch gazes at the ruins “gleaming in the half night” as he thinks “Oh my, My God, My goodness, a child, a wife.” Koch's is a special joy, a kind I've been told is without comparison.
The poem impresses me with a strong command of voice, so strong that Koch is able to transcend grammar within parts of the poem. The lines themselves are distinctly long at times and could easily use periods between them, but Koch does not utilize periods, instead allowing sentences early in the poem to exist as separate, yet linked entities. Where he really gets the voice thumping along is when Koch's sculptor friend passes by. The conversation they share is embedded within the poem without quotation marks or clearly delineated speech passages. Koch uses voice and sentence structuring to convey this conversation in a very clear manner. Take a second look at this passage within the poem, paying attention to how the short sentences imitate the pauses and the back-and-forth in this brief conversation:
I just had a baby, I said. I mean Janice did. I'm—
I thought I'd look at some very old great things
To match up with this new one. Oh, Adya said,
I guess you'd like to be alone, then. Congratulations. Goodnight.
Thank you. Goodnight, I said. Adya departed.
Yes, he does mark of some of the spoken words with “said” as a way of attributing phrases to our two speakers in the conversation. Still, it's an impressively succinct way of writing this exchange with no cumbersome extra words or phrases. The end result is that this part of the poem moves fluidly into the end. After looking at the remains of the Roman Forum, Koch determines, as he returns to Janice and Katherine, that “they have nothing to do with you (Roman Forum).” He concludes “a pure force swept through me another time” and that there is immense personal and larger history in this place and this moment, that “I am here, they are here, this has happened. / It is happening now, it happened then.” Opening up in the last two lines is a daring way to end the poem. It shows Koch's new sense of vision, possibly gained in his reflective moment on becoming a father. He is casting out his net and hoping to tug in something to keep him in this moment, to retain the joy and love that have made this moment swell with warmth and amazement inside of him. His sincerity will collect the many pieces comprising this moment and carry them within him throughout the rest of his life. This is one of the positives of being sincere: with sincerity the moments of beauty you create will never escape you.
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