Poetry Writing Lessons: Using "In Which" Like Denise Duhamel

Greetings, creatives!

November is a month when gratitude is everywhere—from dinner tables to journal pages. I’ve been thinking about how that same spirit can shape our writing lives.

Gratitude in poetry doesn’t always have to mean “thank you” poems. It can also mean noticing, naming, and honoring the small things.

Of course, this is also a month when many writers are chasing BIG word count goals (think: 50,000 words in 30 days!). But I'm giving thanks for the smaller side of creativity with my Gentle 30-Day Micro-Writing Challenge. It's all about finding power in short bursts.

That’s why for this month’s Poetry Writing Lessons post, I turned to Denise Duhamel’s playful “In Which” poems. They remind us that even the tiniest observations can be transformed into imaginative leaps. (You can read more about her chapbook in my post from earlier this month.)

For this poetry writing lesson, I chose a poem that honors the feeling I get every November in addition to a healthy dose of gratitude: the sense that the year is accelerating. The days grow shorter, calendars fill up, and it seems like we're all pressing fast forward toward the end of the year.

That’s exactly what Denise Duhamel captures in her piece “Poem in Which I Press Fast Forward.” (Click the link to read the poem, which I can't copy here in full due to copyright regulations!)

This poem leans into speed, snapshots, and leaps through time, while still creating space for humor and reflection. It feels like the perfect companion for a month that’s both busy and rooted in gratitude.

Let's dive in!

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Analysis:

(1) The "in which" frame

Each poem in Duhamel’s chapbook begins with the title “Poem in Which…” and here it’s paired with the idea of pressing fast forward.

This sets up an immediate lens for the poem. The reader knows from the start that we’ll be moving quickly through transformation.

Takeaway for writers: Adding “in which” to your title is a deceptively simple move. It gives the poem a ready-made focus, turning it into a tiny narrative or vignette.

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(2) Transformation through parallelism

Nearly every line begins with “my ___ becomes ___.” Consider these lines:

“my beloved becomes my enemy / my enemy, someone I can’t remember”

or

“my love of apples becomes a metaphor / my love of apples becomes my love of applesauce”

The repetition of structure builds rhythm, while the transformations leap from poignant to playful.

Takeaway for writers: Parallel phrasing can unlock dozens of surprising connections. The repetition frees your imagination to go further because the scaffolding is already there.

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(3) Compression of time

In just 14 couplets, the poem telescopes an entire life: childhood, adulthood, aging, and even death.

In other words, each turn of “my ___ becomes ___” accelerates the passage of time.

Takeaway for writers: Poetry can compress decades into a single page. The trick is choosing sharp details (a wedding dress, sneakers, scars) that suggest entire chapters of life.

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(4) The steadying form of couplets

With all this acceleration, couplets act like anchors. They keep the pacing brisk but balanced.

It's important to notice that each small unit holds one shift before the next arrives.

Takeaway for writers: A clear, repeating form (like couplets) can stabilize even the most chaotic subject matter.

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Step-by-step writing exercise:

Here’s your guided exercise, inspired by Duhamel’s “In Which” technique. Set aside 20 minutes and see what you can imagine on the page:

1. Start with a frame. 

   Title your poem “Poem in Which I ___.” Choose something that suggests change, motion, or mood: “Poem in Which I Wait in Line,” “Poem in Which I Lose My Keys,” etc.

   
   

2. Use parallel phrasing. 

   Write at least ten lines beginning “my ___ becomes ___.” Don’t censor yourself—let the images range from serious to funny to surreal.

   
   

3. Aim for compression. 

   Try to telescope across time. Can you capture childhood, adulthood, aging, all in miniature?

   
   

4. Anchor it in couplets. 

   Arrange your lines in two-line stanzas. This will give shape and breathing room to each transformation.

   
   

5. Revise for surprise and sound. 

   Read aloud and underline moments of consonance, alliteration, or rhythm. Heighten these to make your poem resonate more and build musicality.

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Final thoughts on poetry writing lessons for November

As the year accelerates, Denise Duhamel’s poem is a reminder that poetry can keep pace with life’s speed without losing the depth we need it to bring to the table. The “In Which” frame and the repeated transformations make space for gratitude—not just for what we have now, but for how each stage of life becomes the next.

So here’s my invitation this November: let your own “In Which” poem help you notice transformation. Use short bursts, playful phrasing, and compressed images. Even a few couplets can carry the weight of decades.

If you enjoyed this poetry writing lesson and want more guided prompts and exercises, you might love my workbook The Everyday Writer's Guide to Starting a Writing Practice. It’s packed with step-by-step activities—perfect if you want to keep your creative spark alive through the busy holiday season and beyond.

What would your “In Which” poem reveal? I’d love to hear in the comments or message me through the site! And if you’re joining me in the Gentle 30-Day Micro-Writing Challenge, this is the perfect exercise to try one day!

Happy writing!