3 Ergebnisse.

In The Glass is Already Broken, a mother navigates the decades-old loss of her son: "I keep trying to feel who I was before you / died. Listen to music I listened to then, Beatles, / The Band, Rolling Stones, " she insists, before admitting "I can't / put the snake's skin back around its flesh, / the snow back into the sky." But what she can do is its own wonder: she shatters open a life centered on marriage and motherhood to reclaim her prima...

The poems in Unhinged open wide the doors between love and loss, past and present, life and death. Charde teaches us that to study any subject is to reckon with its opposite: how she can choose the commitment of marriage, while wanting "to keep moving", how she honors the loss of her son, a grief that still shouts "like the emperor peonies/ burning red in [her] garden, " while also wanting "to lasso [her] life to a more merciful anchor", how s...

In Branch in His Hand, a boy falls to his death and a mother sings a requiem in poems. The reader will not ever forget the Italy that he loved, or the wall from which he fell. Charde takes us to Italy, to the wall: A fissure in the wall like / a wound . . . and to the sea, in search of healing. In these brutally honest, beautiful poems, we face the death of one who is dearly loved, and recognize, as the poet says, that grief is at least part o...