Books of Poetry

I rarely buy books of poetry.

It’s not that I don’t love reading it. I do, but I also feel like poetry is one of those things best read in small pieces, and a whole book seems somehow overwhelming. I own two books of poetry: one by Rumi and one of Sylvia Plath’s. Those have been the exceptions to my rule, up until now.

One of the best things about being in college is that things are constantly being offered to you. Things like poetry readings. I was offered extra credit to attend the poetry reading being given by poet Allison Titus, but I wanted to go anyway. I don’t do enough cultural things in college, I really don’t. Besides, a professor I highly respect spoke glowingly of Titus and that was enough to make me want to go.

I now own three books of poetry.

To say that Titus spoke to my soul is cliche. But to say that her words left me breathless and aching to hear more is more or less accurate. I wanted to cry, listening to her read her work. I happen to have a very raw, emotional reaction to good poetry, the kind that hollows you out inside and settles in the space its created.

Lines like:

The way you look in that dress called twilight. It is nothing you can say come back here to. (Sum of Every Ship, page 64)

Or:

The parts

of me that are on fire can’t

put the parts of you that are on fire out.

(Sum of Every Ship, page 7)

Or:

Had I one unhaunted season.

Had I a mule to falter the path at your ankles.

I would carry both to your doorstep and beg your pardon, Forgive

your grief its almanac size.

(Sum of Every Ship, page 60)

I could go on and on. Images rose up on the seas of her words. Titus is serene in her presence, but funny; the spark of liveliness and life bubbling up just under the skin. It’s barely tangible, the way you can see veins beneath the skin.

I told her after the reading that I write poetry, sometimes, infrequently. I’m an amateur, I said. I do it for fun.

She wrote in my book:

To Amy–
in poetic solidarity! and with best wishes.

yours,

allison

I spent the rest of the evening poring over her thin volume. Just, savoring. Reading and re-reading.

I will leave you with my favorite stanza or so of hers and the exhortation to go find her book and buy it, because it’s worth every penny. Here is a link, to make it all the easier. You can also find more about the author here.

**

Think of the nights that

have broken without a word,

have left a starless sky

in your throat.