The subjects of poetry are the same: love and loss, sex and death and grief, family in all its permutations and complications.
The differences are in the telling, and Kory Wells is a powerful teller.
Her poems are as layered and dense as her grandmother's Red Velvet cake.
What is it, she asks, that makes us want to swallow // a story whole? To think // only one version can be true? With a clear eye, she confronts the paradoxes that gender, race, and heritage present.
She writes from a rootedness in her homeland that reaches down generations.
She writes as a citizen of this troubled world: I'm unlearning the urge for a sugar fix like I'm unlearning // my threshold for what is acceptable, terrible, commonplace.
// Tell me I don't have to unlearn hope.
She does what we ask of the poet.
All that we ask.
--Marie Harris, former New Hampshire Poet Laureate.
Same | Love and loss sex and death and grief family in all its permutations and complications |
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She writes as a citizen of this troubled world | Im unlearning the urge for a sugar fix like |