The Pelican’s Engagement

The Pelican and his brothers, two–on a mission
with Mother Jane, walk the path to the grounds,
all the while reckoning objection and his croaking sounds.
“The last asset is a treasure to hold,” Jane says,
Joking about atrophy’s grip and moments of decay,
while her son–still in mourning of love’s fierce array,
recites the letters given to the engraver,
a charm organized as a spellbinding lure.
Above, the Lamp of Psyche shines radiant and pure.
The line of least resistance through his love laid bare.
Expiation whispers as the lid is lifted from its place.
The Pelican stands outside, he cannot look upon her face.

The moving finger, all three faint—fate is ominous
and the Pelican flies. The door is bolted and all three are confined
as it closes on eternity, how could she, in her state be deemed maligned.
Returning from the portal of journeys unknown, above
the Daunting Diana stands as a statue of a goddess’s grace,
Echoes linger outside the mausoleum as she leaves the place.
Diagnosis, Catalepsy, afterward, a confession,
Jane wanted the ring back, a revelation, they died from disbelief.
On the day of the funeral, only the Pelican wept with grief.

Sarah B. Royal’s The Pelican’s Engagement, part of her title constraint series in Diving for Pearls, is a masterfully twisted blend of gothic drama, dark humor, and poetic absurdity. Constructed from the titles of works by a single author—repurposed and reimagined—this poem transforms archival fragments into a surreal narrative of mourning, mystery, and familial dysfunction. It is a poem that dances on the edge of tragedy and satire, where a tall awkward lad, nicknamed, The Pelican, grieves, his mother jokes about death and decay, and mausoleums are haunted with unresolved emotion.

The poem opens with a curious procession: “The Pelican and his brothers, two—on a mission / with Mother Jane…” This quartet, walking toward “the grounds,” evokes a funeral march, but the tone is immediately undercut by the absurdity of a “pelican” as protagonist. The Pelican lad, anthropomorphized and emotionally complex, becomes a symbol of displaced grief and awkward dignity. His brothers and Mother Jane are equally enigmatic, their dialogue laced with irony and detachment. Jane’s remark—“The last asset is a treasure to hold”—is both literal and metaphorical, referring to the engagement ring, while also mocking through commodification of loss.

Royal’s use of constraint—drawing from 20–40 titles to build the poem—creates a layered texture of literary allusion and tonal dissonance. Phrases like “Lamp of Psyche,” “Daunting Diana,” and “Diagnosis, Catalepsy” evoke classical, medical, and mythological registers, blending high drama with clinical detachment. This juxtaposition is central to the poem’s humor: the sacred and the mundane collide, and the result is both unsettling and oddly delightful.

The narrative unfolds like a gothic novella compressed into verse. The son, mourning a lost love, recites letters to the engraver—for her tombstone, a charm. The “line of least resistance” becomes a metaphor for emotional surrender, while “expiation whispers” as the lid is lifted—suggesting a coffin, a secret, or a psychological burden. The pelican, unable to face the deceased, stands outside, a tragicomic figure of avoidance and sorrow.

The poem’s climax is both eerie and absurd: “The moving finger, all three faint—fate is ominous…” The door bolts shut, confining the trio in a literal tomb. The question—“how could she, in her state be deemed maligned”—introduces ambiguity about the woman’s condition, reputation, or sanity. The return from “journeys unknown” and the presence of “Daunting Diana” as a statue suggest a mythic overlay, returning from the dead.

The final stanza delivers the poem’s punchline with macabre flair: “Jane wanted the ring back, a revelation, they died from disbelief.” This line collapses the emotional weight of the poem into a moment of grotesque comedy. The idea that death was caused not by illness or accident, but by disbelief—perhaps at Jane’s audacity or the absurdity of the situation—underscores Royal’s gift for blending pathos with satire. The pelican, the only one to weep at the funeral, becomes the poem’s moral center, a creature of sincerity in a world of ironic detachment.

What makes The Pelican’s Engagement so compelling is its tonal complexity. It is a poem that mourns and mocks, that elevates and deflates, that uses constraint as a source of creative tension. The borrowed titles become puzzle pieces in a narrative that is both familiar and strange, echoing gothic tropes while subverting them with humor and surrealism.

The poem is a meditation on the absurdity of grief, the theatricality of death, and the strange rituals we perform to make sense of loss. It reminds us that mourning is not always solemn, that memory is not always accurate, and that sometimes, the only one who truly understands is the pelican—reluctant but obediently part of the procession, the theft, even standing outside, unable to look due to grief, unable to save his mother and brothers because of his fear, yet, alone at their funeral, still weeping.