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But a Storm is Blowing From Paradise by Lillian-Yvonne Bertram

briandice's review against another edition

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4.0


Poems with lines that cause that sudden sharp intake of breath akin to the needle puncture of skin. Nestled phrase a well placed diction mine.

O thuggish awakening.
All planets but this one were named after gods


The accretion of the poems in the collection are the hand on the scale of American desires and failures. But which balance is affected?


Of what I should not touch
the universe is moving my hand closer


What is this mystery, the undefinable moment when a poet strikes a nerve - the grief biscuit that tastes different for each reader?

I know every kind
of sorry, can plot all form
of survivorship curve.


We all knew there was a storm coming. Could we have guessed it was coming from Paradise?
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