Drab Habitation of Whom?

Drab Habitation of Whom?
Tabernacle or Tomb —
Or Dome of Worm —
Or Porch of Gnome —
Or some Elf's Catacomb?

     -F916,  J893,  Sheet 11, 1865

This poem is only six lines long, but it spans religion, mortality, biology, folklore, magic and mystery all at once.

Drab Habitation of Whom?

In the first line an existential question is posed. Who are we in this drab habitation? We are presented with an open-ended riddle. Eventually this question turns toward death, but not yet. A "Whom," after all, follows from being someone, from being alive. If there is a habitation, there is living going on. So the question is posed to you. You look around the room to see... Whom? There is no one else around. Perhaps you notice that your habitation is a bit drabber than it needs to be.

Tabernacle or Tomb —

This is confusing at first because a Tabernacle and a Tomb are "Whats" not "Whoms." So I think we are to understand that the place defines the inhabitant, or, put another way, the inhabitant defines the place. Is the habitation you are living in a sacred place where God’s presence resides or a dead place of nothingness? Is your room more tabernacle or tomb?

Or Dome of Worm —

Now the riddle is revealed. The "drab place" must be a burial mound, for what else could a dome of worm be? “Dome of Worm” is a memorable phrase. The body is shown to be, on one level, mere worm-food.

The word “worm” seems to derive from the “tomb” in the line above, but the word “Dome” ties back to “Tabernacle.” This doubling up of metaphor is cunning. We can infer that the church itself may be infested with worms.

Or Porch of Gnome —

Now we are back among the living again, but not among the real, not in any factual realm. The Gnome, though, for a moment of inspired imagination, is at home, and this mound is his porch. It’s magical, like a child's fairy garden. The imagination has transformed the worm-riddled mound into something wondrous. 

But maybe this fantasy is naive? This thought sets us up for a return to the dark. Is this some magical creature's porch, 

Or some Elf's Catacomb?

One way you can read this poem is as a question: is there life after life? That's a mystery that occupied Dickinson, as it does so many of us. But another way to read this poem, one that is, I think, more valuable, is to ask: is there life among the living? Is life merely a set-up for the harsh reality of being worm-food, or is it lit up with the magic of the imagination? 

I think this poem has it both ways. It acknowledges reality, but also dwells in possibility. 

We go back to the beginning of the poem and take note again of that "Whom." It's not “What” life and death are that is being defined here, it’s “Whom.” The power to transform one's home is, at least on this side of the veil, ours to own. 

     -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Notes: 

1. "Porch of Gnome" may be riffing off of the idea of a "porch gnome," a fad which was already in vogue in the 19th century and is still popular today. 

2. The word gnome was coined by the 16th-century Swiss alchemist Paracelsus. He derived it from the Greek word genomos, meaning "earth-dweller"

3. The form of this poem, 33223, is the same as a limerick. (I don't think I've seen Dickinson use it before?) The effect is to heighten the fairy-tale elements of the poem. 

4. The child-like word-play in this poem is a lot of fun. Whom/ Tomb/ Dome/ Worm/ Gnome/ some/ comb. The over-riding sound is OM, the sacred Hindu syllable. I doubt Dickinson was familiar with this Indian root-word, so I think it is more likely the poem functions as a meditation on the word “Home.” That word is conspicuously absent here. We have "habitation" followed by a series of words that rhyme with home.