Before It's Light

The direct, spare, largely autobiographical poems in this generous new collection evoke memories of an unlovely girlhood ("longing to be what every man / would rush to take the gum out of / his mouth to whistle for"); a stormy marriage ("each separation I lost/10 pounds"); self-unsparing love affairs ("we were / like drunks, dying / a little more / every time"); the pain of losing a mother ("holding her while / she moans my hands are / cold, my hair a whip"); the struggle to regain self-sufficiency after bad relationships ("some of / us need to regrow claws, survive / on prey, give up safeness").

And as always, Lifshin's poetry trawls deep waters of submerged passion beneath the surface of everyday life, coming up with a teeming, glistening catch.

that afternoon an

unreal amber

light 4 o clock the

quietness of

oil February blue

bowls full of

oranges we were

spreading honey, butter

on new bread our

skin nearly touching

Even the dark wood glowed.