Museum of the Soon to Depart
Poets come equipped. Where mortals lower their lids in terror, poets play a game of stare down—making hay through the pain, lemonade of loss, fun of fear—never ever looking away. Steely Andy Young lives in New Orleans after a Southern West Virginia childhood. She is a graduate of Warren Wilson’s MFA Program for Writers and now teaches at New Orleans Center for Creative Arts.
Villanelle of Her Absence
I keep on forgetting my mother is dead.
The fact is sealed: a shard in a vitrine.
Loss sews me up with its surgical threads.I almost send her a pic of the kids
hugging the dog in the sun. Their sweet grins.
I keep on forgetting my mother is dead.I send it to my sister. Try to get out of bed.
Light a candle in front of her picture again.
I’m lost; breaking at the sutured threads.Which saint for students? Which for staying fed?
She knew the saints: more like friends than religion.
I keep on forgetting my mother is deaduntil birthdays, Thanksgiving—I’ll dread
every time she can no longer be in—
her loss the last gossamer threadof the time on earth she had to spend
with us. Why didn’t I pay attention?
I’ll keep on, forgetting my mother is dead.
Loss is remaking me: cloth, filling, thread.
Reviewed by
Matt Sutherland
Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The publisher of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the publisher for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.
