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Hinge (Crab Orchard Series in Poetry) - Softcover

Spencer, Molly

 
9780809337972: Hinge (Crab Orchard Series in Poetry)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0809337975 ISBN 13: 9780809337972
Verlag: SOUTHERN ILLINOIS UNIV PR, 2020

Inhaltsangabe

Finding joy and beauty in the face of suffering 


Readers enter &;a stunted world,&; where landmarks&;a river, a house, a woman&;s own body&;have become unrecognizable in a place as distorted and dangerous as any of the old tales poet Molly Spencer remasters in this elegant, mournful collection. In myth and memory, through familiar stories reimagined, she constructs poetry for anyone who has ever stumbled, unwillingly, into a wilderness. In these alluring poems, myth becomes part of the arsenal used to confront the flaws and failures of our fallible bodies. Shadowing the trajectory of an elegy, this poetry collection of lament, remembrance, and solace wrestles with how we come to terms with suffering while still finding joy, meaning, and beauty.
 
Spencer alternates between the clinical and the domestic, disorientation and reorientation, awe and awareness. With the onset of a painful chronic illness, the body and mental geography turn hostile and alien. In loss and grief, in physical and psychological landscapes, Spencer searches the relationship between a woman&;s body and her house&;places where she is both master and captive&;and hunts for the meaning of suffering. Finally, with begrudging acceptance, we have a hypothesis for all seasons: there is suffering, there is mercy; they are not separate but are for and of one another.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Molly Spencer&;s poetry has appeared in Blackbird, Copper Nickel, FIELD, Gettysburg Review, New England Review, Ploughshares, and Prairie Schooner. She is a poetry editor at Rumpus. Her debut collection, If the House, won the 2019 Brittingham Prize, selected by Carl Phillips.
 

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SELF-PORTRAIT AS THE RIVER FLOODS

Snow chokes this town like a plague.
Slumped walls of white,
every corner clotted. March
comes in dazed-the sun
a weak rumor, quivering
hills, a just-begun dream
of runoff. I go back
years to the town of high ground,
that first yard necklaced by creek
and stone, berries brambling
down the backyard hill.
I go back-crocus
striving through snow,
all the orchards waiting
to blush then break
open. Now I know
not to sink too deep in the folds
of the bed, that even floors
can wander. Nights
of crest and sandbag,
the borrowed bridge
to safe ground swamped
by morning. I go down
to watch the water's surge
and spoils-there goes our table,
there, the spare key, there go
the stories I told them.
The children are growing
long and ravenous.
What can I build
that will hold?


ONSET

Late snow, and after
the orchard tamed, unblossomed.
That waking

to a stunted world,
the clock made loud
and slow.

Say your mother found you
hot and aching, wooden, warped, your bones
made sudden by pain.

Say she said, Rest, and you rested,
hearing far voices-the bodies
you'd birthed-down hallways long and bare.

Say she said, Take this, and you took it.
Then slept. A sheet pulled tight,
the whole world whitening. Sooner or later

every house has a sick room-
pale walls built by weather and waiting.
A window for weak light, the door forever

ajar. Sooner or later every orchard
knows the slow burn-bales of wet hay lit
in rows and smoking in a storm. Weak heat

and too late. A bleak
unharvesting, the coming summer
fruit-shorn.

Once there was no body,
just the strange spell of self.
A hand told to hold would hold.

Once a woman learned the weight
of flesh and bone, an earthward pull,
that fisted shape-a blossom held in snow.


IDIOPATHIC

These rooms never have windows. You’re alone
and waiting, still dressed in the incessant blue

of their gowns. Outside this room, your whole life
swallows hard. Your husband paces the waiting

room, flinting his fists. You wait like a cold house
waits for a fire to make it warm, wait while the sky

goes down to an early dusk, mending boundaries
and gaps by failing to reveal them. You wait

because you can’t unfold, can’t rise up,
can’t ignore the ladder you climb every day

just to stand on your feet.
When you hear the tap-tap

on the door, try to straighten, try to smile, try
to forget the splayed heart flapping in your chest.

Then listen, nod, murmur your thanks, and turn
again toward the ransacked room

of your body.

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Verlag
SOUTHERN ILLINOIS UNIV PR
Erscheinungsdatum
2020
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0809337975
ISBN 13 
9780809337972
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
88
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