Sinéad Morrissey's "Genetics" meditates on the way that inherited traits connect people to their past. The poem's speaker notes that their hands contain features inherited from both their mother and father, linking the now-separated couple within the speaker's body. The speaker's hands provide a deep sense of belonging to a family lineage, which the speaker hopes to continue by having a child of their own. "Genetics" was published in Morrissey's 2005 collection, The State of the Prisons.
The speaker begins by observing that they have the same fingers as their father and the same palms as their mother. Looking at the combination of their father and mother's traits makes the speaker happy because it reminds them that they're a creation of their parents.
Now, the speaker's parents live far apart, on opposite sides of the earth. They have romantic relationships with other people. They're still linked to each other through the speaker's hands, however, meeting where the speaker's fingers connect to their palms.
The only thing left of the parent's marriage is a tentative friendship. The speaker describes their parents as two people who search for what they mean to each other much like miners draw minerals from the earth. The speaker is glad that their hands offer a more stable record of their parent's marriage.
The speaker can bring their hands together to form a church steeple. When the speaker turns this steeple upside down, they can see the underside of their hands, where their fingers and palms remind them of their mother and father.
Looking at their hands in this shape, the speaker envisions their mother and father standing solemnly in front of a priest, reciting religious hymns or verses. The speaker's body is a physical record of their parent's marriage. They can recreate the wedding with their hands, which combine traits from both parents.
The speaker turns to address their own partner and asks them to have a child, saying that it's human nature to want to pass down genetic traits to future generations. The speaker promises to pass down their fingers if their partner passes down their palms. All children can look at their own hands and see evidence of where they came from.
The speaker of "Genetics" reflects that their hands contain traits inherited from both their father and mother and thus serve as a reminder that the speaker's parents "made" them. The speaker knows, too, that they will one day pass down similar traits to their own children. In this way, the poem illustrates how people's ancestors live on in their bodies, which offer a comforting, grounding sense of connection to the past—and, ultimately, to the future.
Having inherited their father's fingers and their mother's palms, the speaker looks at their hands "with pleasure." In proving that their parents "made" them, the speaker's hands lend them a sense of belonging; they know that they're the product of love and part of a family line.
The poem goes on to suggest that, even though human relationships are frail and changeable, the speaker's body remains a stable record of the past. The speaker's parents are no longer together, having "repelled" each other "to separate lands," but they still "touch" where their traits meet in the speaker's hands. Though there's "nothing left of their togetherness," the speaker’s hands are evidence that their parents were once a couple. The speaker's very existence thus preserves pieces of both their parents as well as a specific moment in time.
The speaker wants to continue the cycle of inheritance by having a child with their partner. They ask their partner to "take up the skin's demands," a phrase suggesting that it's simply human nature to want to have children and attempt to live on through future generations. In the final lines, the speaker makes the choice to "bequeath" their fingers to a future child, in combination with the partner's palms. This child will serve as a record of the speaker's own relationship and existence, and the poem implies that the speaker can take comfort in being part of this continuity across generations.
In addition to commenting on the ways in which genetic inheritance connects people to their pasts, "Genetics" also illustrates how drastically relationships can change over time. The speaker's parents are no longer married, and the speaker now serves as the only record of their "togetherness." In other words, the product of their marriage, the child, outlived the relationship itself. In this way, the poem speaks to the unpredictability of relationships; romantic love, "Genetics" suggests, isn't always as steadfast as people may hope.
The speaker's existence proves that their parents were once close enough to have a child. Their mother and father still "touch" where the speaker’s fingers and palms meet. In this sense, the speaker's body is their parent's "marriage register," physical proof that they were once together.
Since having their child, however, the speaker's parents have "been repelled to separate lands." In other words, they've broken up and now live far apart. The word "repelled" implies that there's little, if any, warmth between them these days. They both might "sleep with other lovers," the speaker adds, hammering home the idea that each has moved on. Indeed, the speaker says that there's no "togetherness" left in their relationship, which has changed from being romantic to merely cordial.
By telling the story of how their parents moved from a close union to a distant friendship, the speaker illustrates how completely a relationship can change over time. The speaker isn't saying that all couples are doomed, however. On the contrary, if the speaker thought that relationships were hopeless, they wouldn't want to have a child with their own partner. Presumably, the speaker's parents didn't plan for their feelings to change, and the speaker's desire to start a family of their own suggests that, really, no one ever does. Love and romance are unpredictable, the poem ultimately suggests, and thus require a certain leap of faith.
Though the speaker's parents have separated, this doesn't prevent the speaker from wanting to start a family of their own. At the end of the poem, the speaker turns to their partner and asks them to "take up the skin's demands / for mirroring in bodies of the future"—in other words, to have children together, whose "bodies" will reflect the speaker and their partner. The fact that the speaker wants to embark on this journey with someone conveys their hope that history won't simply repeat itself—that they won't end up in a failed marriage as their parents did. Rather than being an exact replica of the past, the poem suggests, each generation is unique—and thus represents a chance for a new beginning.
The speaker says that their hands are a combination of their father's "fingers" and their mother's "palms." Likewise, the speaker's child will inherit a new mix of traits from the speaker and their partner. The speaker invites their partner to "bequeath [their] palms" to a future child, promising that they (the speaker) will pass down their fingers in turn.
While this process might echo the way the speaker was "made," the result won't be the same because the speaker's partner introduces a new set of traits into the mix. The poem conveys that children are reflections of their parents, not exact copies; likewise, people’s identities are informed by their pasts, but not necessarily dictated by them.
The speaker thus isn't doomed to repeat their parent's patterns because, connected as they may be, they're not the same people. Ultimately, genetics combine to create children who are entirely new, independent individuals. In this way, the poem suggests that children don't simply preserve the past, but also offer a chance for a fresh start.
My father's in ...
... by my hands.
The speaker begins the poem by describing their hands, which reflect traits inherited from both their father and mother. The speaker doesn't merely say that their hands look like their parents' hands; instead, the speaker claims that their parents are "in" their fingers and palms, as though both parents maintain a physical presence within the speaker's body.
The parallel grammar of this opening line emphasizes the fact that the speaker is a combination of their parents—that they're equally part of their father and mother. Note, too, how a caesura breaks the line cleanly in half, separating the speaker's parents from each other:
My father's in my fingers, but my mother's in my palms.
Looking at their hands makes the speaker happy because it helps them feel close to their parents. Their hands are a reminder that the speaker's parents "made" them, and thus that the speaker belongs to a family lineage.
This opening stanza also establishes the poem's form. "Genetics" is written in iambic pentameter, for the most part, a meter in which each line contains five iambs (poetic feet that follow an unstressed-stressed syllable pattern). The meter isn't perfect—the first line has two extra iambs (making it iambic heptameter) and the second line has an extra unstressed beat at its end:
My fa- | ther's in | my fin- | gers, but | my mo- | ther's in | my palms.
I lift | them up | and look | at them | with pleasure—
I know | my pa- | rents made | me by | my hands.
These variations are relatively minor and, overall, the lines echo the clear da-DUM da-DUM rhythm of a heartbeat.
"Genetics" is also something called a villanelle, meaning its first and third lines will be repeated (albeit with some variation) at the ends of the following stanzas. Keep an eye out for this repetition.
They may have ...
... link to palms.
With nothing left ...
... by my hands.
I shape a ...
... their marriage register.
My body is ...
... with my hands.
So take me ...
... of the future.
I'll bequeath my ...
... by our hands.
In "Genetics," the speaker's hands symbolize their connection to their mother and father. Quite literally, the speaker's hands contain physical traits inherited from each parent: they have their father's fingers and their mother's palms. In this way, the speaker's hands also represent their parents' relationship—and the way that this relationship has made the speaker who they are.
The speaker's parents have separated, but they still "touch" where their traits meet in the speaker's hands ("where fingers link to palms"). The speaker's hands thus preserve a piece of the past and remind the speaker that they're part of a family lineage. When the speaker declares at the end of the poem that they want to "bequeath [their] fingers" to a child of their own, this represents their desire to continue their family's legacy.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
To dig for stone or minerals, usually in a large hole or pit. Here, the parents aren’t literally quarrying; instead, the word suggests that they’re just searching for something solid.
"Genetics" is a villanelle. This means it has 19 lines broken into five tercets (or three-line stanzas) and one concluding quatrain (a four-line stanza).
As a villanelle, "Genetics" also has two refrains that repeat (with variations) throughout the poem. These refrains come from the first and third lines of the first stanza, which then alternate as the final lines of each subsequent tercet. The repetition isn't exact, but there's a clear pattern with references to "hands" and "palms" in each refrain line. Here are stanzas 1-3 to illustrate this pattern in action:
My father's in my fingers, but my mother's in my palms. Refrain 1
[...]
I know my parents made me by my hands. Refrain 2They may have been repelled to separate lands,
[...]
but in me they touch where fingers link to palms. Refrain 1With nothing left of their togetherness but friends
[...]
at least I know their marriage by my hands. Refrain 2
These refrains then appear together, one after the other, in the poem's closing quatrain:
So take me with you, take up the skin's demands
for mirroring in bodies of the future.
I'll bequeath my fingers, if you bequeath your palms. Refrain 1
We know our parents make us by our hands. Refrain 2
As readers can see, villanelles are very repetitive, circular poems. As such, this form is fitting for a poem about genetic inheritance and the way people are reflections of their parents. Readers might even think of these refrains as representing the speaker's father's fingers and their mother's palms; the refrains echo throughout the poem, just as the speaker's parents' features appear within their own body.
Again, "Genetics" doesn't repeat these refrains exactly. Sometimes, these changes are very slight, as between lines 1 and 12:
My father's in my fingers, but my mother's in my palms.
[...]
my father's by my fingers, my mother's by my palms
Other changes are more substantial, such as between lines 3 and 15, where the only constants are "my hands" and similar grammar:
I know my parents made me by my hands.
[...]
I re-enact their wedding with my hands.
The poem makes similar changes when it comes to the villanelle's expected ABA rhyme scheme. Some rhymes are perfect, like "palms" and "psalms." Others are subtle slant rhymes, like "palms" and "hands."
All this imperfect repetition mirrors one of the poem's key themes. In "Genetics," children are reflections of their parents, but not exact copies.
"Genetics" follows a rough iambic pentameter. An iamb is a poetic foot that follows an unstressed-stressed syllable pattern, da-DUM, and pentameter simply means there are five iambs per line (for a total of 10 syllables). Some lines don't follow this pattern exactly, but the poem clearly has an iambic bounce to it overall. Take a look at the opening stanza:
My fa- | ther's in | my fing- | ers, but | my mo- | ther's in | my palms.
I lift | them up | and look | at them | with pleasure—
I know | my pa | rents made | me by | my hands.
Line 1 has seven iambs, making it a line of iambic heptameter. The other two have the expected five iambs, however, making them iambic pentameter (albeit with an extra dangling unstressed beat at the end of line 2, something called a feminine ending).
This meter lends the poem a sense of regularity and deliberateness—every syllable seems to be placed carefully. The poem feels musical and assured, while variations on this meter prevent it from becoming too stiff or predictable. Iambs are also often likened to the rhythm of a heartbeat, and they're thus appropriate for a poem about genetics and inheritance.
"Genetics" follows the expected rhyme scheme of a villanelle. Each tercet rhymes ABA and the final quatrain then rhymes ABAA.
The poem doesn't stick to this pattern all that strictly, however. For the most part, the poem uses slant rhymes (and some very subtle ones at that). For example, the two A rhymes in the first stanza are "palms"/"hands"—words with similar sounds, but which definitely aren't perfect rhymes. The B rhymes are likewise subtle: "pleasure," "lover," "river," etc.
All in all, the poem's rhyme sounds are related but not identical. As with the poem's varying refrains, this reflects of the main thematic ideas in "Genetics": that children inherit traits from their parents but are still unique individuals. Like these rhymes, children echo their parents rather than mimic them exactly.
The poem's speaker is someone reflecting on the ways that their parents' features are reflected in their own body. The speaker's parents are no longer together, but the speaker takes comfort in being a testament to the fact that they once were. The speaker also has a partner with whom they're considering having children, which means they're probably in their 20s or 30s.
It's easy to read the speaker as representing Sinéad Morrissey herself, given that her parents separated and she has two children. In any case, it's clear that the speaker is comforted by their physical connection to the parents and longs to pass down those traits to children of their own. Despite their parents' failed marriage, the speaker hopes that their current relationship is a fresh chance.
The setting of "Genetics" is more about a specific time than a specific place. That is, readers don't know where the speaker is, but they know when they’re speaking: in the present, as an adult, after their parents have separated. Given the fact that the parents live in "separate hemispheres" and "may sleep with other lovers," it's fair to assume that a decent amount of time has passed since this separation. Now, the speaker is gearing up to have children of their own.
Sinéad Morrissey was born in Northern Ireland in 1972 and has published five books of poetry. Her collection Parallax won the prestigious T.S. Eliot Prize in 2013. "Genetics" appears in her 2005 collection, The State of the Prisons.
This collection, Morrisey's third, explores prisons both literal and metaphorical, including those created by the human body and individual perception. Morrisey's poetry more broadly touches on themes related to religion, politics, motherhood, femininity, and Northern Irish identity. In this latter topic, she draws from a rich literary history whose contributors include poets such as Seamus Heaney, Paul Muldoon, and Ciaran Carson.
"Genetics" is also a villanelle, a form that dates back to early 17th-century France. Perhaps the most famous example of this cyclical form is Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night."
"Genetics" doesn't explicitly reference any particular historical context. That said, given that Morrisey's parents separated and that she has two children of her own, it's reasonable to assume that the poem was inspired by her own life experience.
The poem's themes also might be informed by the history of Northern Ireland. Morrisey grew up in Belfast during "The Troubles," a period of violent conflict that began in the late 1960s and lasted until the Good Friday agreement of 1998. The conflict was between (mostly Protestant) unionists who wanted Ireland to remain a part of the UK and (mostly Catholic) nationalists who desired Irish independence. The poem's references to parents being "repelled to separate lands," as well as its religious imagery, perhaps reflect this context.
Incidentally, Morrissey's father was born to a Catholic family while her mother is English, though the poet has said that she was raised without any major religious leanings. Speaker of her upbringing, she told one interviewer:
"We had really good values instilled in us by our parents. When things get very tribal and divided between two groups of people, much of reality is predetermined by which side of the divide you stand on and where your values were formed. It was very liberating not to be on either side and to feel quite apart from those two dynamics."
"A Maker of Intricate Poem Machines" — An interview in which Morrissey talks about the use of strict poetic forms in her writing.
History of the Troubles — An introduction to the history of the Troubles in Northern Ireland.
Carcanet Interview With Morrissey — An interview with Morrissey around the time of writing "Genetics."
Morrissey's Life and Work — A biography of Morrissey and introduction to her work via the British Council.
Morrissey on Her Childhood — Read an interview in which Morrissey discusses her "very different upbringing."