In this collection are infidelities and funerals, umbrellas hurtled by the wind, landmines hidden in sand, and tightly wound rhymes that hint of a spirit coiled, waiting in the dark.
In Drift(er), Jake Skeets addresses the Richard Avedon photo that adorns the book’s cover: “to drift is to be carried by a current of air or water / but men are not the teeth / of their verbs.”
In the opening poem in this collection, Tishani Doshi addresses her reader: “I agree to turn my skin inside out, / to reinvent every lost word, to burnish, / to steal, to do what I must / in order to singe your lungs.”
Turning to these poems at the end of many a dark day has felt like holding the gift of a small, fierce light.
“Bro!” begins Headley’s delightful new translation of Beowulf, and from there unravels a tale of heroism and machismo and masculinity that honors the origins of the epic poem while also carrying it forward.
Claudia Rankine’s book-length lyric poem is adorned with an image of a torn black hood—a reference that could be any of the many black men and women who have been abused by the white state.
Thirsty and fierce. There are lines in here that absolutely floored me.
Lindenberg’s words touch on darker days, but the form and style are extraordinary even if held apart from the event that triggered them.