Ok. I started typing my entry about the Third Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival, and I have yet to finish. I guess this means it should be my main goal of the weekend to complete that post. But until then, I want to share a poem by Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Bosselaar and Kurt Brown taught at the festival last year; however, they attended this year as observers. I adored Bosselaar last year, so I was excited when I found out she brought a few advance copies of her latest book, A NEW HUNGER, which is now on sale. Buy a copy ASAP!
I wanted to share a poem titled “Garage Sale” that Bosselaar read at the Second Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival (it’s in A NEW HUNGER). I envy the poem’s ending– beautiful, biting…. I remember the slap I felt when I heard her read it.
I sold her bed for a song.
A song of yearning like an orphan’s.
Or the one knives carve into bread.
But the un-broken bread
song too. For the song that a river
sings to the ferryman’s oars–with
that dread in it.
For a threadbare tune: garroted,
chest-choked, cheap. A sparrow’s,
beggar’s, a foghorn’s call.
For the kind of song only morning
can slap on love-stained sheets —
that’s what I sold my mother’s
bed for. The one she died in. Sold it
for a song.
I think ‘Garage Sale’ is my favorite poem by Bosselaar at this time. Following closely in second by her is “Stillbirth,” which is also found in A NEW HUNGER. Then, as if you really care, my third fave by her is “Dinner At Who’s Who,” which can be found on her webpage; I had the pleasure of hearing her read that one last year. I find it is a delicate treat to hear a poet you adore read his/her own work.